Traversing Reality
by Maken
Summary: ºSlashº -.After Voldemort’s defeat as a consequence of his out of control magic, when all who would be able to help him are too busy to do so, aid comes from a very unexpected source, someone from another world with a claim on Harry’s soul.-
1. Connection

**Disclaimer: **Right. The Harry Potter Series and the whole hoopla that comes with it are the property of J. K. Rowling and assorted affiliates. Anything that you don't recognize come from my own imagination, though I admit that they could have been inspired from other places as well.

**Warning: **Boy lovin ahead! Slash of the slashy variety ahoy! So _shoo_ to all those that don't like that fact.

**Author's Notes: **Lessee…this is an _Alternate Universe_ story that will have spoilers for all seven books, though they really won't count as much more than background information for Harry's character. The story itself will develop in a different place and with new and original characters. As is, the pairing will also be between Harry and an original character or OC, so you have been warned.

Read on and let me know what you think in a review, got it? No, go read!

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**Connection**

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The ceiling was dingy and cracked; the room old and dirty. There were cobwebs in the corners and shadowed places of the room, yet he paid them no attention. His mind was blank and his eyes glazed, tired. By rights, he should be someplace else, anyplace, but none were safer at the moment then where he was now, not with the Death Eaters in a frenzy and looking for revenge on the boy who had brought about their masters downfall once more.

It was still difficult to believe that the Dark Lord's shadow no longer loomed over him; that his destiny was fulfilled, however anticlimactically it had resolved itself. Voldemort had come after him personally when he was being escorted out of Privet Drive by members of the Order; the chase had been long, but the battle that followed it had not. Tom had not counted on the desperation and out of control magic of a teenage boy being able to destroy him, let alone each of his Horcruxes, wherever they might have been.

Still, it had happened. Like that Halloween night, the how of it would forever remain a mystery.

Maybe it was simply the knowledge of their existence that helped his magic find them and later wipe them out of existence. According the little news he received, Hermione had told him that there was an explosion both at Hogwarts and Gringotts shortly after Voldemort was vanquished.

Now, as he lay in an almost empty Grimmauld Place, his magic still destabilized and his thoughts in disarray, he didn't know exactly how to put himself together once more. Dumbledore was no longer there to guide him, and everyone else seemed to be too busy at the moment to help him cope.

He had been pushed to the side and left there once he had done his part.

Ron and Hermione would be of no help, seeing that his magic was too unstable for anyone not strong or experienced enough to deal with it. His friends could find themselves irreversibly injured because of him, simply by getting too close or saying the wrong thing and triggering a negative response. At the same time, those who could help weren't able to just yet; Remus was dealing with the werewolves, especially those who had followed Voldemort; McGonagall was still dealing with Hogwarts and preparing everything for the new term in a few weeks, after all, the school would have been closed if not for Voldemort's surprising defeat. Snape was in Azkaban and awaiting a trial, even as many within the Order scrambled to prepare his defense; it seemed that there was some new evidence left by Dumbledore of the bastard's innocence. Finally, Flitwick had been selected as McGonagall's Deputy, and he was just as busy as the former Head of Gryffindor.

He idly wondered who the new Head of his House was going to be.

All in all, no one else knew how to help him and so they had been forced to leave him alone until he could either put himself together on his own, or until someone who could help him became available.

With no one for company, seeing as Hedwig had died along Mad-Eye Moody, the only other person who was trustworthy enough and capable enough to help him, he was forced to endure his solitude; messages and food were charmed into his room seeing that no one wanted to risk being exposed to his magic.

It was too wild, too dangerous.

It had been a week since he had arrived and he wondered how much more time he had to endure before he broke more than he already was. And so his empty eyes just kept staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks there and keeping himself from thinking about his unstable future, waiting until sleep claimed him once more.

He didn't know just how much more he could take, how much he could keep from shattering completely.

**oOOoOOo**

Warmth was what woke him up from his last bout of sleep, along with a tentative, silky touch on his left cheek; like warm fingertips upon his skin. Light registered next, and he had to wait a moment for his empty green eyes to focus once more as they sleepily opened. Sound was the last thing he noticed; it was a happy, content _humming_ that reverberated across his entire body.

It made him feel at peace for the first time since Voldemort had been resurrected.

Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes, which had fluttered closed without his consent, and looked for the source of the warmth, the light and the sound.

What he found was the last thing he expected.

There, hovering like a miniature sun, shining light to the entirety of the room, was a, well, _something_. It's surfaced rippled like water as the humming continued and as he held a hand up to try and touch it, the small shining orb literally raced into his palm, almost _cuddling_ into it. It felt smooth to the touch, and his mind sluggishly connected the feeling to what had woken him up from his slumber.

A moment later, his focus snapped to complete attention, for his magic was visible to the naked eye but different from the last time he had seen it as he did now. He had expected to see it as it was before, when he had been confronted by Voldemort; licking the walls with tendrils of uncontrolled power, looking for something to focus on, to destroy. Yet now, now his magic, which had been swirling around without rhyme or reason since that day, without focus or control before, now flowed around him like a calm stream or a steady ocean.

It was hard to believe, and in wonder he felt for his magic once more, and found it to be under his control yet again. Slowly, very slowly, he began to bring it inside himself, to make it his once more, as it had always been…

"No!" a panicked voice sounded as if from far away.

And just like that, the humming stopped, the light dimmed and the little miniature sun had darted out of his hand; his magic, once again, began to loose focus and slipped through the fingers of his control and Harry watched, dismayed as it slipped like sand through his cupped hands, and it lashed out against the room once again, leaving gashes across the walls and the few remaining pieces of furniture that were still intact. The bed he was in began to tremble as tears silently flowed from his eyes, one at a time.

"Why? Why can't I control it?" he asked at nobody and everybody in frustration, completely forgetting the orb of light now approaching cautiously once more, as if in trepidation. Slightly droopy, if he had cared to notice.

He didn't expect an answer, but he did receive one, "You must not control your power, for it does not wish to be controlled. It wishes to be a bigger part of you, to help you and to live alongside you, not waiting in the dark recess of your being until the time you deem it useful and then use but merely a tendril of it. Your power simply wants the same freedom that you now possess." The voice was young, warm and caring; concern and understanding flowed in it in equal measure, and happiness. Yes, happiness tinted it even in its serious explanation.

Still, as Harry's mind once again caught up with him, the small globe of light brightened and approached him, once again touching his cheek. It was a loving gesture, one that brought comfort and soothed his troubles away. When the humming started once more, he immediately noticed how his magic calmed once again.

"Do not try to control it; sense it, allow it to flow around you and to recognize your wants and feelings; it is your power and you are its chosen, allow it to recognize you as such."

And as Harry followed this and calmed, leaning back into his pillows, he could literally feel a difference in his magic. It was not controlled at all, but it felt comforting and light, an enormous difference from its harsh, violent nature from just moments ago.

As he spoke, his voice was soft with wonder and curiosity, even as his eyes regained some of its previous life, "Who are you? What are you? How do you know how to calm my magic? Where did you come from? How did you find me?" question after question poured out of him until a chuckle stopped him short and he noticed that the humming had stopped and yet his magic remained calm, looking at the little light, which he noticed was dimmer than before, he smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, its- ah, well…"

"Do not worry," the voice answered him, and he noticed how the surface of the small sphere rippled as it did; however, it sounded slightly tired and farther away, "Though I do not understand why your power was so out of control, it did allow me to find you. And for that, if nothing else, I am very grateful. As to the answers you seek, I would need your help to answer them…"

He worried as the voice trailed away, as if it were exerting quite a bit of effort at the moment. He was anxious that it would disappear without him knowing who had helped him, if only a bit. He bit his lip and a familiar determination settled in him as he stretched his hand and picked the small globe out of the air, a little more fire entering his previously dead green eyes, "How can I help?"

Startled, the little light seemed to shine brighter as he held it, and so he caressed it with his fingers, as if to coax it into its full brilliance once again, and warmth once more emanated from it because of his efforts, "I will need some of your power…" it drifted off and dimmed, and Harry held it desperately, not wanting it to leave just yet, his curiosity spiked like never before.

"Take it! However much of it you need, just take it!" And as if hearing his plea, his magic surged like waves and wrapped around himself and the little light, feeding it and surrounding it. Slowly, ever so slowly, liquid silver started to appear and form into a thin chain even as a sapphire, about an inch or more in size, appeared before him, from where, he did not know. Then, gaining more momentum, the chain formed around his neck and attached itself to the sapphire as the little light melded with it until it resided within the jewel itself.

It shined brightly and the sapphire became warm in his hand as his magic receded into himself for the first time since Voldemort's attack, satisfied, as if it had done what it had set out to do. And as he watched the little light shine blue from within its encasement, he couldn't help but wonder if it had indeed done just that.

If it did, he might need to thank his magic after all was said and done.

"Ah, thank you," the voice said, and he looked at the sapphire in surprise, since he could hear the voice as if someone were standing right beside him where before it sounded as if it were speaking from the other side of the wall. "Now, I believe that you had questions for me, though I must apologize for my lack of memory for I cannot remember them all that well, but first, may I ask a question of my own?"

For all that his voice was refined and his speech patterns very cultured, it was both tentative and shy, and something in Harry yearned to put it at ease, "Of course, please, ask away; it's the least I can do after you helped me control my magic."

The little light within the sapphire seemed to perk up a little at that, and he was mesmerized by its brilliance after he spoke, it was as if it were smiling.

"Magic? Is that how you refer to your power? That is a strange denomination to be sure. Now, I am most curious, for through my research I have found that the people of your world are given names when they are born; if it would not be too much of an intrusion, or indeed, too pretentious of me to ask, would I be able to know your name?" The question, however strange it might be and however more questions it stirred up in Harry's mind, was made in an odd sort of tone, equal parts hopeful, eager and curious.

If anything, Harry could deduce from this that whoever he was speaking to was not from the Wizarding World, but still recognized what Magic was, even if they didn't name it as such. The fact that they didn't know who he was and the allusion to another world intrigued him to no end, though he would surely find out more once he said his name, "My name is Harry James Potter," he answered simply, not so far gone as to forgo being cautious.

"Oh!" came the expression of surprise, "You have three names? Is that a common custom? And do they mean anything within your society?"

It was the last thing he expected, since everyone that heard his name always went googly-eyed as awe sipped into their voice; he shuddered to think just how the Wizarding World will treat him now.

Perplexed, Harry simply stared at the little light, holding it in his hands, "you know, you only said that you had one question, not five," he said jokingly, though he was surprised when the light dimmed slightly, as if in reproach or embarrassment, though he didn't know how he could tell, and hastened to reassure the little thing, "I'm sorry, I was only joking; you can ask me however many questions you want, though I don't promise to answer them all. After all, it's not a particularly safe time for me right now, and I would first like some of my own questions answered before I can trust you enough to answer yours."

Taken aback slightly, but with a slight bit of understanding, the little light shined warmly once again, "Certainly. I must apologize as well, it is so very rare for situations such a these to happen that I am a tad exited, not to mention that this is the first time that I have been out of the palace, even if only in this form," he spoke, for it was certainly a boy, though Harry could tell that he was nervous by the babbling quality of his speech, "I can't wait to be able to see, but I am blathering a bit too much, aren't I? Please, ask whatever questions you think are necessary to allow you to trust me. I will not hold back any answer."

Well, that certainly brought more questions than answers to the forefront of his mind, so he started simple, "Well, why don't you tell me your own name, then?"

"Oh, I do not have a name yet. Where I am from, you need to prove yourself, your power and your abilities to the Council and the Overseer so that they might give you a name. Though I am not too old to be without a first name, my case is slightly difficult; I assure you, however, that I will be presented with one in time."

"Really? How does that work? And how old are you, then?" he had a lot of other, more pressing questions, but he decided to take this slow and try to get to know this little light and understand where it came from. He was sure that it was from no place that he knew of, that's for sure.

"I am 66 seasons of age," he answered, startling Harry until an explanation followed, "That would be 16 of your world's years, though they are one and the same; where you count by years and months, we count the four seasons and the phases of the moon." And that made a fair bit of sense, he had to admit, "As for how come I don't bare a name as of yet, it is a very sacred practice in my world; it is determined by our actions and accomplishments. There are some who gain a name at an early age, while others take years to acquire them. I have, as of yet, done nothing noteworthy enough to garner a name of my own," he said this last somewhat sadly before continuing, "Your name, as it is, would mean a great deal in our world; Harry would denote you as a Warrior and Ruler, a Protector of your House; James would mark you as a Successor and Potter would indicate that you are an artisan."

"I think I understand. From that point of view, I don't think that I deserve my names then, though I cherish them all the same since my parents are the ones who gave it to me," he replied softly, somewhat humbled by this strange custom. Still, he needed something to call the boy other than 'little light,' and determined to find a name that would at least honor this tradition. "Anyways, you talk as if you are not from this world, if that's true, then where are you from, how did you find me and why?"

Silence greeted his question, and the little light rippled as if in deep thought. Harry simply waited for the answer, flipping on his side and snuggling into the covers as he placed the sapphire on top of the pillow next to his own, surprised to see that the chain lengthened so as not to pull at his neck.

Finally, his answer came, turning his world upside down, "It is because I am not from this world, which we call Terra, or better yet, this dimension. I am from a parallel universe that is very similar and yet very different from your world, for one, we call our planet _Lumentia_, which is divided into three different societies. We developed in a completely different way than that of your world, and yet, we are still very much the same in all the ways that matter.

"As to how did I find you and why? Both questions are somewhat connected; you see, you are my souls equal, its twin and its mate. It is extremely rare for one from my world to be born with its soul's equal in another world or dimension, something that has only happened twice before in our entire history. This, however, isn't even all that strange; soul mate's could be anyone, but at the same time they carry the strongest bonds ever witnessed; they could be your mother or father, your sister or brother, your best friend or your destined lover. Whatever the case, you would hold an instant affinity to them and an unbreakable bond, along with certain abilities that are only possible because of that link."

The little light paused and rippled, its voice filled with nervousness and a slight fear of rejection that Harry understood all too well; he knew that this was a difficult topic for the little light, for whatever reasons, though he now knew that a sixteen year old boy stood at the other end of this conversation. Still, the thought of his soul having a twin or mate was heartening for him, giving him the hope and knowledge that he was not as alone as he thought. A small smile graced his features at the thought.

"In essence, this is why I ventured to find you," he continued, "you see, seven of your months after I was born, my soul received a great amount of damage, as if someone had tried to rip it out of this realm prematurely, leaving me weakened and my power in disarray. The best Healers of my world have done everything they could, but the damage has taken its toll on me, even worsening in the last couple of years. I was loosing hope and almost gave up on life until recently," his voice was full of melancholy and sorrow, and Harry could only listen in horror as he put the pieces together.

"When your barriers fell and your Power was liberated, I was able to sense you, something that had been impossible for me to do until now and so my healers, my teachers and my guardians came together to do the ritual that allowed me to contact you. It allowed me to send a little of myself though a small hole in the fabric of the universe temporarily, when your Power accepted this small part of myself and grounded it in this dimension, the ritual stabilized, along with that small hole and the link we share, and though it, my own body as well."

Speechless, Harry couldn't find anything to say, for this boy, not even a year younger than himself, had suffered because of being tied to him; everything he said fit perfectly with the attack that Halloween night, and Voldemort's resurrection a few years before. His soul has suffered because of it and his supposed destiny and that knowledge dredged up so much compassion within him that he would have choked on if it were at all possible.

So with tears in his eyes and regret in his soul, he spoke, his words broken, "I'm so sorry that you've had to suffer so much, if there is anything that I can help you with, to allow you to recover, please let me know…"

The little light burst into brilliance at that, gratitude shining out of it until it dimmed slightly, for whatever reason, "You have done enough already, by allowing this small piece of me to be close to you; my health is already improving."

Sitting up and clutching the sapphire intently he asked, "But is it enough? Will you be able to live fully as you are? Is that why you found me, to simply allow a small part of you to be here, or is there more to it than that?"

The little light hesitated, rippling in indecision, "This is not the best solution, but it is enough for me." He left the answer at that.

"You told me that you would answer all of my questions, please, what would be the best solution then?" Harry asked, oddly desperate, even as he calmed himself, knowing that his soul's equal was holding something back. It was odd, but he could already feel a connection forming between the two of them; it erased some of the solitude that he had endured for so long.

Sighing, the little light hesitated once more before answering, his voice small, "Very well. As I explained before, soul mates possess certain abilities because of their bond; they are able to heal each other's souls. However, to do so, we would have to be in close proximity, meaning that either I would have to come to your world, which is not possible due to my current weakness, or…"

"Or I would need to come to yours," Harry finished, already excited at the prospect of visiting a different dimension, one where he wasn't the 'Boy-Who-Lived,' it was a very appealing idea, for certain.

"You must understand, however, that should one of us cross into either world, there wouldn't be anyway for you or I to return, only the ties that our souls share allow us to do this. Once we cross to the other's world, that link, and the small hole that connects our dimensions will close," he explained, somehow knowing that Harry needed to learn of all of the consequences, before he did something he would later regret, "That is why I say that this is more than enough; it is sufficient for me to heal, even if slowly, but I _will_ heal and again, that is more than enough," the other boy's voice was firm by the end, and Harry was certain that the other could cope.

But would coping be enough? How much time would it take for the others soul to heal? Was there really nothing else that he could do? True, it was not a decision to be made lightly, but for some reason, he knew that he had to consider it closely. Something told him that there was more to this situation that met the eye, and more to this strange world that was so close yet so different from his own. True, the thought of leaving everything behind made his stomach drop, but what did he have to look forward to in this world? Only his friends and Remus kept him here. Where they enough reason? Maybe, if there were a way to keep in touch with each other, it wouldn't be as hard. It was something for him to look into, that's for sure.

"In any case, I must go for now. I am still not skilled enough to split my concentration in two and I have to report my success in contacting you so that we might close the ritual. There are some things that I can do that will allow me to speak with you in a form of astro-projection, but those need preparation and a few of your days to manage. Would this be acceptable to you, Harry?"

"Yes, of course," Harry assured quickly, wanting to meet this other boy that claimed to be his soul mate. Besides, now that his magic was back to normal, he could move around the house again, and maybe even go to the Burrow, if anything.

"I will see you soon then," the little light said, rippling and dimming slightly until only a very dim spark remained within the sapphire. The gem cooled soon afterwards and whispered words of farewell drifted across the room quietly until silence reigned once more.

"See you soon," he whispered back, somewhat morose now that his little light was gone.

**oOOoOOo**

The members of the Order were surprised to see him so recovered, and more then slightly wary of him. A few of them knew him enough to overcome their slight fear of him and his magic; Kingsley and Tonks amongst them. Still, he wasted no time and sent a letter to Hermione and Ron as soon as he could and as the strange owl took off, he remembered Hedwig and missed her old friend all the more.

Still, he had found some purpose after everything he had been through, and this allowed him to put himself together once more. He could feel the sapphire resting against his chest and he could sense the link that he had with the little spark within it. He so wished that he could speak with his little light again, but knew that it would be a few days before that happened. For some reason he was becoming progressively possessive of the other boy, even without having met him, and he wondered if it was normal.

Still, it didn't feel wrong in the slightest and indeed, he could feel himself healing slowly as well, even if he had not suffered as much damage to his own soul. He felt lighter, if nothing else; less burdened, less lonely.

When Ron and Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place the next day, he dragged the both of them to the library and told them everything that had happened and all that he could remember about his conversation with his little light. He even showed them the sapphire, though he wouldn't allow them to touch it; he was oddly protective of it, to tell the truth.

True, the conversation was long, and not easy in the slightest, but like always, it peaked their interests enough to garner their help; besides, seeing as it directly impacted him, their worry would have pushed them to help him, if nothing else.

Not wasting any time, they had all began to research on the subject of soul mates, other dimensions, damages souls and anything else related with it. When they exhausted the books in the Black Library, Hermione paid a visit to Diagon Alley, along with asking McGonagall for access to the Hogwarts Library as well.

Remus was someone who they called on almost immediately, though he hadn't replied to their letter yet. By the second day, they understood and confirmed everything that the other boy had told him and a lot more than the boy had left out.

They had a suspicion as to his little light's condition and the nature of their link, but they were looking for all the information they could find. Still, more often than not, all the information pointed in the same direction, the other boy would not recover without contact with Harry; he could heal with the link they had already established, but he would remain weak forever more; unable to live a full life.

It was then that his resolve settled, and with his friends help, he began to plan. They didn't try to stop him, now that they knew the nature of the situation, though they were reluctant for a great many reasons.

After all, they didn't want to loose their best friend.

However, they weren't selfish enough to stop him, so they helped him in everything they could. For whatever reason, his gut told him that he was in the right path and now that he had found someone who was both more than blood and more than family, he wouldn't let them suffer needlessly, especially since he could prevent it.

Maybe it was his saving people thing, but he couldn't help it. This time, however, he was not going into a situation blind. He was going to make sure that his plans were well in place and there was at least some way for him to communicate with his home-world.

When he went to bed on the third day after he had met his little light, he couldn't help the smile that twisted his lips at the thought of what the future might bring, and the new adventured that he might experience; all he had to do was wait for the other boy to contact him once more so that they could gain the information they needed to pull this off.

If anything, it would be an exciting couple of weeks, and a new reality to look forward too. One where the politicians weren't after his skin…

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**TBC…**

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**Author's Notes: **Well, how was it? The preparations start next chapter as we meet with Harry's 'little light' and we find out a bit more about this mysterious new world. Until next time…

See ya'!


	2. Preparations

**Disclaimer: **Right-O. J. K. Rowling made all this stuff up, so it belongs to her and her scarily brilliant mind; true, she shared the wealth so there are some other guys that have a claim on the Harry Potter franchise, but I dunno who they are. The important thing is that Harry and his world belongs to them, not me. Got it? Good.

**Warning: **Watch it!Horny boys going at each other like bunny-rabbits on an Amortentia overdose in later chapters! (I wonder what would that potion smell like to them? Carrots?). Much fluff and cuddly moment ahoy soon! Thick-Headedness ahead in the near future!

You have been warned; _beware_, of finding more than straight sex there!

**Author's Notes: **Well, it hasn't been that long since the last update, has it? I considered keeping this chapter hidden until the end of next week and post it then, that way I would have a little backup in case I was too busy to write and so you guys wouldn't get used to seeing so many chapters at the same time, but whatever, right? I decided to just post 'em as they come, and this here chapter came rather easily after the last one, eh? _(smirk)_

Anyways, I do have some fic-related issues for those nit-pickers out there (you know who you are). Simply said, I really don't have time to come up with a new language or ways to develop some original names, so I will be using existing names and such. Try to ignore that little snafu while I write this, you hear?

Now, go off and read and leave me a review, why don'cha?

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**Preparations**

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It took more than a couple of absentminded swats to displace the small spider that thought to use his bangs as a promising place to start a new web. Certainly, his surroundings would not have dissuaded the tiny creature, but Harry found its choice for web-making sorely lacking. Then again, maybe it wasn't that the spider lacked judgment when it came to putting up its web, seeing that all other corners in this dusty library were already taken, but that his hair just looked that promising as a foundation for web-making; truly, he didn't know if the thought was insulting or flattering, so he just tried to shove it aside….

…Then again, maybe it was because he hadn't moved all that much in the last three or four hours? Yes, that was it; the sate of his hair had nothing to do with it, he nodded.

With a deep sigh and a held-in yawn he went back to the book he was reading, hoping that it held at least some of the answers he was looking for; already much of his plans had been confirmed, he simply needed more information before going much further, but it was a tedious task. Hermione was already listing the spells they would need to research and learn, and who they might need to consult before attempting anything else.

Still, a few wrinkles would need to be ironed out and the help of both McGonagall and Flitwick, and maybe even Remus, would be needed. That in itself had been somewhat hard to acquire, but they had already made an appointment with both professors, and just hoped that Remus would be able to attend as well.

Already, suspicions were rampant as most members of the Order became increasingly wary of their activities; the newspaper's speculation about both his mental state and health did not seem to assuage these at all, but then, with Voldemort out of the way he could see how Scrimgreour could think him a threat to his career as Minister. He was, after all, the wizarding worlds golden child once again. The Order's wariness of him had more to do with their witnessing his out of control magic first hand than anything else, and they were a firm minority who would not turn against him based on rumors and propaganda, even if dubious themselves.

Of course, the fact that they weren't telling anyone of their actions, even when confronted about them, only arose more suspicion within those that did doubt him.

However, even with Voldemort's defeat the Wizarding World remained somewhat skeptical about the permanence of this fact, seeing that he had returned once already; they still looked over their shoulders, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. While celebrations raged all around, they had been told that it was nothing compared to Voldemort's first downfall. In short, wizards had gained some measure of cynicism, even as late as it was in developing.

True, the fact that the Death Eaters weren't ceasing their activities was probably part of the problem, though those who were well informed could tell that the only ones causing trouble were the Azkaban escapees; like the Lestrange's and the Carrow's. It was only a matter of time before everyone realized that these few wizards were nothing without their Master's backup and finally put the whole war behind them, and these few fugitives back in prison.

What he dreaded, however, was being caught up in the whole mess before it was resolved; what with loose Death Eaters, inner Ministry corruption, and Hogwarts barely opening its doors this next term.

Already he had played the role of scapegoat, and he was not looking forward to do so again. His public image was too fickle and he knew that if Scrimgreour kept pushing those articles in the Prophet it would only take time before the tide of public opinion turned against him once more. Obviously, the man didn't know that he cared little for the public and was not going to go against the Minister unless the man made himself his enemy.

Funny how he was trying to do just that, huh?

Still, he never considered the fact that the public wouldn't turn on him or his word as quickly as he thought they would, seeing that in their eyes he had more than proved himself by finally defeating the Dark Lord. At the moment and to the rest of the wizarding world, his voice was weaved of gold, his piss infused with the Elixir of Life, and his shit was treated as if the most fragrant of odors known to the universe wafted from it.

For now and quite some time to come, his image was unshakable, his character unquestionable. If he asked them to jump, the wizards of the world would ask how high…and could they enchant, spell or use any manner of strange doohickeys to fulfill his wish?

But then, the only people he had to measure the public's reaction to was those from the Order of the Phoenix, which even now was slowly disbanding, and none of them could quite get over the way his magic had gotten out of control to show the devotion and esteem that the rest of the world held him in.

And since he didn't know the possibilities, it didn't even register while he was making his plans.

His thoughts were interrupted, though, by a heavy _thump_ on the floor beside him; where he was leaning against one of the bookshelves, reading. "Have you found anything useful in that book, Harry?" came Hermione's question soon after.

Snapping the indicated tomb shut and placing it with the one that had been tossed beside him, he shrugged, "Nothing on dividing enchantments on that one, though it does have a particularly fascinating article on why enchantments should never be applied to shredded toenails, or something of the sort," indeed it was a very interesting article— dry, utterly boring and mind numbingly idiotic, that is.

Ah, _sarcasm_, how I love thee.

"Now, Harry, there's no need to get snippy about it," Snippy? Who? Me? Never! "Here's another book on the subject, see if you can find anything more in it."

"Sure thing," he answered drolly, bored to tears by the thought of another dry, idiotic book; probably on the uses of enchantments on earlobes.

"And just why can't we just ask Professor Flitwick about it when we talk to him in a couple of days?" Ron cut in from behind his own dusty book, looking beyond bored as well.

"Honestly Ronald," Hermione huffed as she settled herself with a new book beside them, "We need to at least understand the subject and see if what we want is possible before we go and waste the Professors time with meaningless questions. It was already hard enough for them to find some time for us, we should use what time we do have for something constructive, like—."

Almost ready to tune the girl out and getting back to his own book, Harry was a little startled by the warmth that he could feel against his chest. Swiftly closing the book and pulling the chain from around his neck with a happy cry, he tugged the sapphire from under his shirt and held it in his hand, noticing how the little spark within it was steadily brightening.

Ron and Hermione had already fallen silent at his actions, and he could see his bushy haired friend preparing some parchment and a quill. For what, he didn't want to think.

"Greetings, Harry," his little light's warm voice drifted out of the jewel, the light brightening considerably as it did.

"Hello to you too, Aidan," he said with a grin, particularly proud of himself for finding a somewhat suitable name for his little light, even if he didn't have too many places to look in or that much time to find a suitable name for his friend.

"Oh!" came the slightly shy exclamation, as if the other boy didn't know how to respond, "It means 'Little Fire,' does it not?" he asked tentatively, as if unsure of the meaning.

"It does," Harry nodded, somewhat happy that his little light knew what it meant, "it's a temporary name as well, until you are given your own name. That is, if you don't mind?"

"Oh no, not at all," the little light shined brightly, and Harry could almost feel the other boy smiling at him, "it is a lovely name, thank you."

"Good," he answered, in high spirits now that he was speaking with the other boy again. In the last few days, in the recess of his mind, he had sometimes wondered if he had not simply made the boy up. And though he had convinced Ron and Hermione of his new friend's existence and he had the sapphire as proof, speaking to the boy was still that much more convincing, as shown by the looks of awe in his friends faces, "Anyways, Aidan; I would like you to meet two of my best friends, Ron and Hermione."

"Certainly," his little light answered and rippled, as if nervous, before waveringly speaking a greeting, as if unsure, "Hello." Harry briefly speculated if the boy had ever used the word before, since it sounded unfamiliar coming from his cultured, if tentative, voice. He briefly wondered if they spoke another language in this new world, and made a note to ask Aidan when he had the chance. The light within the gem grew fragmented before becoming solid again, as if the boy had been trying to look around, "It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance."

"Hello to you as well, Aidan," Hermione finally snapped out of her silence, "the pleasure is all ours."

"Yeah," Ron piped up again, "it's great to finally talk to you, mate, Harry's done nothing else but tell us about you."

"Truly?" the little light asked brightly, interest and curiosity tinting his tone. Harry could feel his cheeks heating up slightly and simply glared at his best friend. Ron just rolled his eyes at him, even as they focused their sights on the sapphire once more, which Harry had now placed on the center of their tight circle; on top of a stack of books.

"Oh yes," Hermione pitched in, a conspiring glint in her eyes, "he hasn't stopped talking about his 'little light' at all. He's told us everything that he could about you and even asked us to find a way to help you heal faster, which is why we are in the middle of the dusty library doing research."

Harry couldn't help but groan as she mentioned to Aidan how he referred to him as his 'little light,' and he even got the distinct feeling that the other boy was blushing as the small light darkened slightly. Still, it was nothing to his reaction when Hermione told him why they were in the library; the sapphire had literally burst with light and gratitude, and Harry was certain this time that the smile on the boys face must be splitting his head in two.

It took a moment before the light went back to its normal brightness, as if it had taken some effort to control himself, even if a low humming could he heard emanating from it when Aidan answered again, his voice filled with gratitude and even a small bit of fond reproach, "Thank you ever so much, but you truly do not need to do this. I have already told Harry that what he has done is more than enough."

"You don't know Harry as much as we do, then," Hermione rebuked him lightly, but offered no other explanation. "Now," she settled with ink and parchment, "I have several questions about some of the things that Harry mentioned and I hope that you would be able to answer some of them," she said crisply, in that no-nonsense tone that he recognized so well, before opening her mouth once more—

"Wait up, Hermione, not so quick," Harry interrupted before she could gather up anymore steam and turn everything into an interrogation that would certainly scare his little light away. Shooting his friend a restraining look, he told her, "Before grilling Aidan with your questions you should wait to see if he can actually answer your questions, or wants to for that matter," he continued, feeling his protectiveness surge at his bushy haired friend's lack of tact before turning back to the sapphire, "Now, just ignore Hermione, Aidan, she just gets excited about learning new things."

The light within the jewel rippled slightly, both amused and comforted before he settled and spoke calmly back, "It is not a problem. I too am immensely curious about some things; even with our scrying basins we have only managed to gather short observations and minimal knowledge of your world." Giving the impression of a smile, Aidan continued speaking, "I would be honored to answer any of your questions, Hermione, if only you would care to answer some of my own."

Blushing slightly, Hermione only nodded, before realizing that the gesture wouldn't be seen and in stead murmured an embarrassed, "Of course."

"However," Aidan said, the light dimming slightly, "I do not have the time for a lengthy conversation at the moment. The ritual that allowed for me to find you, Harry, drained us far more than we were expecting and as such, it will be a few more days before my power is strong enough to speak with you safely for a longer period of time."

"I see," Harry answered, disappointed slightly that he would have to wait a few more days before speaking with his little light again, though he was concerned as well, "how much time do you have now?"

The light dimmed further, now showing a little bit more effort in maintaining itself, "I am sorry, but my time seemed to have already expired. I just wanted you to be informed so that you did not become worried. I will see you soo—"

And just like that, the little light blinked and receded into a spark once more.

"Well," Hermione pulled herself together first, "you heard him, he won't be able to contact Harry for a few more days, so we'll need to talk with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick without his input." Quickly taking charge or their efforts once more, she quickly discarded some of the less promising books before dividing them between the three of them, "Now, we need to hurry and see if we can find anything useful, so get to it."

Ron looked at the stack of books beside him and picked one up before rolling his eyes in Harry's direction before speaking a, "Yes, ma'am." Ducking a swat at his head they grinned at each other and set to work. After all, they had a meeting at Hogwarts tomorrow.

**oOOoOOo**

Early morning on the next day, right before breakfast, the newly apointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could be found arranging many of her books and some other trinkets into the office she now occupied. An office that now looked remarkably different than it had been when it the care of her predecessor, Albus Dumbledore. It had become a routine by now, organizing her new office; she took time each morning to arrange her things, glad that it would only be a few more days before she was completely settled in and her workspace was up to her standards. Already she had spent the early mornings of the last week bent to this task, seeing that it was the only way she would be able to get it done.

With Voldemort's defeat at the hands of Harry Potter, the reopening of Hogwarts was a rather sudden decision; informing the students, old and new, even with such late notice was done immediately, and since then it had taken all the time she had to get everything back into some semblance of order.

Not to mention re-securing as much of the old professors as she could; some had already made different commitments after all.

Between the defenses of the castle, the constant stream on interviews for the open teaching positions and the influx of both mail and floo-calls from concerned parents who wanted to talk to her personally before making the decision of whether or not their child would attend, well, she was just glad that she didn't have a constant migraine.

Turning to wave her wand at one of the multiple trunks lined up against the wall, the one closest to her, opened and books started spiraling out of it in an orderly line before they seemed to split randomly and began to shuffle around the empty shelves, depending on their topic or author, as if looking for the best possible place for their individual topics.

As the books took care of themselves, she moved to an already opened trunk that was besides her desk and manually began to remove some of her more valuable souvenirs before placing them where the books seemed to have settled. When she noticed that her _Trembling Transfiguration and the Art of Animation_ series seemed to have found a place, she extracted two of her prized bookends, which were enchanted too actually sooth the books' actual trembling, and swiftly placed them at either side of the seventeen book series, knowing that they would get nervous because of their new surroundings; they tended to jump ship when that happened.

Satisfied when the books settled, she slightly admired the bookends themselves; they had been a gift from Albus and they were both stylized after her animagus form of a tabby cat, one of which was standing on its hind legs while holding the books at the moment and the other was seemingly curled against the other side, taking a nap. They were, of course, animated as well, bespelled by the one who gifted them to her. Should one of the books misbehave, the cats would either stare it into obedience, or swat it into place, though that rarely happened anymore.

With a sad sigh, she turned once again toward the trunk and continued unpacking her belongings, knowing that she should not dwell on the past for long.

She was interrupted from her task not ten minutes later, however, when three of her would-be seventh year students came tumbling out of the fireplace in her new office. Looking at the tangle of limbs that made such a racket, Minerva McGonagall made the correct assumption that Potter had tumbled out of the fireplace first, that Weasley had followed too soon afterwards, and that because he was half asleep the boy hadn't really watched where he was going and tripped over his best friend, sending them crashing into her office.

Ms. Granger, fortunately, waited for the appropriate amount of time or simply predicted this outcome, since she deftly sidestepped her way out of the fireplace and primly cleaned her robes before aiming her wand at her disentangling friends and doing the same. That done, the girl turned toward her, leaving the boys to sort themselves out, "Good morning, Professor McGonagall."

Nodding curtly at one of her favorite students, she waved her wand toward the twirling mass of books still flying around her office and directed them back towards the first trunk, knowing that they hadn't found a place to arrange themselves in yet, the whole process only taking a moment before she turned back towards her students and nodded to the you young men as well, "Good Morning to you as well, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

"Good Morning, Headmistress," Potter answered her back with a lopsided grin and slightly sad eyes as he took in the differences apparent in the office.

"G'morning Professor," Weasley yawned with an absentminded nod.

Not really knowing what these three needed, she just ushered them into seats while she stacked her six trunks in the corner of the office and fire-called Filius to inform her Deputy that their expected guests had arrived.

Turning toward the small dining table that she had set up in the upper levels of the office, where Headmaster Dumbledore had kept his telescope and where she kept some of her favorite plants and a few of the more interesting of her transfigured specimens, she sat down and called for tea while they waited, making idle chatter and exchanging news until Filius arrived.

She was extremely pleased that Potter seemed to have recovered so well, and she was relived that his magic was no longer out of control; when asked about it, the boy said that it was part of the reason they were there. The topic soon turned toward one of her more unique birds; a result of an accident during her second year class not four years ago. The bird in itself had been a brightly colored parrot, but in an attempt to turn it into a goblet, it had instead attained a glass-like appearance; now the bird looked like a living, breathing stained glass sculpture.

It had looked much too beautiful to reverse, and she had yet to find a way to regularize the Transfiguration, so she didn't risk the reversal without knowing that she could redo the effect. Hopefully she would have more time for her research within her new position of Headmistress.

Finally, when the small Charms Master arrived and breakfast was served, she learned of Aidan's existence and Potter's plans. It took some time for full explanations to take place, and both Filius and her had a great many questions as well, but by the end, she understood what Potter wished to do and why.

Their ideas were sound, and while they knew that it was possible to accomplish, they didn't exactly know how, or even had the expertise to pull it off. That was where Filius and her, and maybe Remus, who had been unable to make it, would come in. The artifact that they wanted to use was a good base, and she was glad to find a use for it, seeing that Albus hadn't been able to do it.

True, it would take some preparation to pull off, but it was not impossible. Besides, she could see that Potter truly desired this, and she could not turn the young man down, especially after he had done so much for the rest of the wizarding world. The opportunity this represented wasn't lost on her either, and if everything worked properly it would only be a matter of time before everything stabilized and became permanent.

The rewards far outweighed the risks, and Potter was adamant of his decision, which she respected.

Finalizing everything, she made a list of what they would need and handed it over to Ms. Granger, since she and Mr. Weasley would be the ones going to Diagon Alley, and they arranged to keep in contact with any new information. If they encountered no significant obstacles, they would be able to perform the modifications of the mirror two weeks before the term started; after that, it was just a matter of waiting for the spells to settle before anything else could be done.

Hopefully, everything would work out in their favor. After all, Harry's magic depended on it.

**oOOoOOo**

"Harry, wake up," someone whispered in his ear. Grunting, he turned on his other side and promptly went back to sleep. "Harry," the whisper became more insistent, though softer, and he had to scrunch up his eyes in an effort to block out the sound.

A few moment later, satisfied that whoever was calling him had left, he buried his face on the pillow and rolled onto his stomach, covers and all, only to startle awake when he felt the sapphire that now rested against his chest was warm, like when his little light had spoken to him before.

Snapping his eyes open, he swiftly sat up and clutched the sapphire in his hands, ignoring everything else in the darkened room and blinking rapidly to clear the spots that danced there at focusing so quickly on the bright light. After all, his little fire light was there, "Aidan, are you still there?" he asked, his voice dry from sleep.

"I am still here, Harry," came a warm, amused voice from behind him, making him turn around with a small yelp, though he couldn't see anything in the darkness. Quickly turning completely around, sapphire held out for illumination, he came face-to-face with a rather transparent face.

Startled and thinking that he was seeing things, he leaned back against the headboard of the bed and groped for his glasses in the bedside table, wanting to make sure that he was seeing right. When the frames rested on his nose, he lifted the sapphire once again, since he had let it drop against his chest in surprise.

What he saw almost made him drop the sapphire once again.

For sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed was a boy who he could only assume to be his little light, only that he looked like the colored version of a ghost. Only after he got over this fact was he able to see what his new friend look like; his soul's equal. The sixteen year old was only slightly shorter than Harry, as far as he could see, with long hair that reached his neck, but not his shoulders, framing his face; its color could be described between being light brown or dark blond, with honey colored accents.

The boy was slim and his pale face was soft, yet striking all the same, what with the startling blue eyes with its honey colored ring and streaks around the pupil, his slightly arched eyebrows and his small but sharp nose. Harry had never seen another guy quite as, well, attractive, _cute_, for lack of a better word, but shrugged the matter aside and pushed Aidan's pretty-boy status to the back of his mind, waiting for the time where he could use it to tease the younger boy with it.

Still, what stood out the most was what Aidan was wearing.

It was a formfitting, one-piece ensemble, much like those that Harry had seen in the sci-fi magazines that Dudley had thrown away. It was of a dark blue color with black and white accents, and it had to be the strangest clothing that Harry had ever seen, and that was saying something when compared to what wizards consider to be fashion. Still, it was strangely regal in appearance, what with its high collar and sleek lines.

Taking all of this in as the last vestiges of sleep left him, Harry could only ask for confirmation, "Aidan?"

The boy across from him just gave him a warm, sweet and slightly mischievous smile, "yes, Harry?"

"Is that really you? Was this what you were talking about the other day? When…I mean, how?" He asked, not quite sure how he could be seeing Aidan like this.

The light within the sapphire brightened as the boy across from him grinned, "Yes, Harry, it is truly me," he waved at himself, "This is a form of physical projection, you could say. I had to learn how to do it so that I could have at least some sort of freedom while bedridden. In any case, my power has finally recovered, so I was able to do this now," he finished shyly, looking somewhat sheepish, "I'm sorry that I disturbed your sleep, I am afraid that I was a bit excited and simply projected myself here without thinking of the time. If I am disturbing you, I could easily come back at a later date—"

He trailed off as Harry chuckled slightly, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, "I really don't mind Aidan. I've been looking forward to talking to you since the last time a few days ago, so don't worry about waking me up, I'm just glad that I can get to talk to you face to face, so to speak."

With a nod of his head, Aidan simply gave a half-smile, looking somewhat embarrassed, "I'm glad. I have wanted to speak with you as well; to learn about you and your world, about your power and your culture and anything else you would be willing to share."

"I can say the same myself, though I have my own share of questions as well; One more important than the rest." He shifted, slightly uncomfortable with his legs tangled in the covers and starting the feel the cold of night against his bare chest.

Aidan, seeing this, just gestured to Harry, "You should lie down comfortably while we speak, then."

Yawning slightly with a laugh, he just nodded his ascent and settled down as Aidan settled beside him so they could speak face to face.

What followed was the longest conversation that Harry had ever had, continuing well into the morning. Harry told Aidan of the wizarding world and a little about himself; he told him about Diagon Alley and Hogwarts; he explained how the Muggle and Magical worlds were separated, and how it was kept that way, which had surprised the other boy immensely.

"Our world has always been united in that respect," he had been told, "both those with power and those without it live side by side, working together and helping each other; never has our society divided like yours seems to have done."

Intrigued about this, Harry learned that _Lumentia_ had not developed technologically like the Muggle world had, seeing that magic was at their disposal; instead, they had developed more organically oriented advancements when their needs grew, so their world was seeped in nature and based around it. Their traditions were strong and longstanding and their culture undivided.

It was more than a little hard to believe, but Aidan promised to tell him more about it later. Equally, Aidan had been surprised by their use of wands to access their magic, asking a series of questions about his Power's Form, it's Sentinel and if he had never seen it, which surprised him even more than anything Harry had told him so far; even more than hearing that the Magical and Non-magical were separate from each other.

"Which brings me that that question that I needed to ask you," Harry told him, yawning massively, "I haven't been able to use my wand since you helped me to control my magic. I know that its there, I just can't access it like before, do you know why?" he asked, and while he wasn't too concerned about it for some reason, everyone else had almost panicked at that fact. McGonagall had almost gone into shock.

Smiling slightly, the light-haired youth simply told him, "Of course it will not function as it has before. Harry, do you not remember? I told you that your power was free now, that it was a bigger part of you; it works alongside you and you will not be able to force it to follow your whims if you try to directed it, your wills are separate at the moment. It does not trust you yet."

Eyes closed and voice soft, Harry simply asked, "Why are they separate?"

Smiling warmly, Aidan responded softly as well, knowing that Harry was on the edge of sleep, "they are separate because you have not met your Powers' Sentinel or come to an agreement with it; you have not seen the whole of it and the shape of it, why would it allow you to use it when you do not even know it?" he finished before extending a hand and trailed warm, silk-like, though intangible fingertips across Harry's cheek.

"But that is something that we can speak about when you have rested, my soul's equal. For now, sleep. I will stay here and guard your dreams," he promised soothingly.

And with that whisper in his ear, Harry Potter fell into peaceful slumber. It was, after all, well past eleven in the morning.

-

**TBC…**

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**Author's Notes: ** Well, what do you all think? You have finally met Aidan, though that is only a temporary name. What do ya'll think of him? Let me know, eh?

See ya'!


	3. Departure

**Disclaimer: **Hear-ye, hear-ye! I have an announcement to make: _-ahem-_ I am not J.K.Rowling! Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to her! The truth might hurt, indeed, it might hurt quite a bit, but it is the truth and we must live to accept it! For this, and for my nonexistent lies, I beg your forgiveness. _–bows-_

**Warning: **Boy love on the approach. Homosexual situations on the horizon. Slash in coming chapters. And yes, _Idiocy_ and _Fluff_ closing in on us! Watch out!

**Author's Notes: **There! A new chapter for the lot of you; I'm not quite sure how it turned out since I'm writing these Notes _before_ starting on the chapter, but its looking pretty cool in my head, so I hope it ends up half as well when down in writing. So sit, read and wag your tail if you like it! Oh! And leave a review, you hear?!

-

**Departure**

-

'_Where in the world __is he?'_ she asked herself in exasperation. Already she had searched the whole of Grimmauld Place and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Harry Potter. And really, he should be busy brewing one of the potions that they needed, even if there were only a few of those left to do, or reading, or something, and doing these things in a place where she could find him, at that, since he wasn't in the kitchen, the parlor, the study, the library or the attic, not to mention in any of the rooms in the second floor.

Hermione had arrived at the Black House not twenty minutes ago, a great many packages in hand; she had gone with Ron to Diagon Alley and Gringotts to buy the things that Harry needed and arrange a few things with the Goblins, since he would probably get mobbed if he showed up in person, but it had taken more than they thought it would. So much so that Ron had to go straight to the Burrow from the Leaky Cauldron before Molly started getting any nefarious ideas, which left Hermione alone in her trip to the House of Black; her own parents wouldn't miss her for a few hours yet, given that they didn't arrive from work until it was time for supper.

And anyways, if she was late she could always tell them that she lost track of time while reading, which was often the case. So it was decided that she would go and fill Harry in on their shopping adventures and that Ron would make the early trip to Hogwarts tomorrow morning, and they would see him there later on.

Still, she was tired from their day-long expedition and she wanted to find Harry; to talk to him and get him to check over what they had bought. She was sure that they had found everything that he had asked for, but it was better to double-check. Besides, she had talked to Professor Flitwick that morning and she had important news to give, what with their preparations being completed earlier than expected.

It was on the last place that she searched, however, that she found him, and the sight that greeted her was not what she was expecting. For sitting besides Harry's sleeping head, insubstantial fingers trailing across messy black hair, was the colored version of a ghost; a very good looking one at that.

He was pale as moonlight, with longish golden hair and the same kind of boyish charm that seemed to cover Harry like a cloak. It was, however, the way that he was sitting beside Harry that surprised her, for the ghostly boy was bent somewhat protectively over her best friend, as if he could ward off bad dreams with his body. And really, he could be doing just that for all she knew.

Whatever the case, it quite an endearing sight, to be sure.

However, after blinking a few times to get her brain to catch up with her, she came to several conclusions. One; that this must be Aidan, and that he had been able to project himself at last, as he had said he would; Two, that some of her suspicious seemed to be correct, especially when she noticed the way that the other boy was looking at Harry. It helped her come to grips with everything that was happening; and Three, that they must have spent quite a bit of time talking, especially if Harry was still asleep this late in the afternoon.

Stepping into the room, she waved her wand at the door after it was closed, drawing Aidan's attention as soon as she passed the threshold. He was watching her both wearily and with curiosity. "Aidan, right?" she asked softly, and came closer at his nod, "It's me, Hermione. Could we perhaps speak for a bit?"

After giving Harry a long speculative yet gentle look, as if assessing the impact of his absence on the sleeping boy's dreams, Aidan stood up and stepped closer to her, a bit hesitantly, she noted, and whisperingly explained, "I cannot be more than a few paces away from Harry, and I do not wish to disturb his sleep. Could we not speak after he has awakened?" he asked nervously at the end, as if afraid that Harry would wake up at any moment because of their low voices, if his constant glances back at sleeping wizard were any indication.

Then again, it could be because of something else entirely.

Nodding her head slightly, Hermione gestured toward the two armchairs facing the fireplace in one of the corners, "Could we talk there? I can place a spell that will allow us to speak without disturbing him."

Looking reluctantly over at the sleeping boy once more, Aidan seemed to think about it before he nodded tentatively, cautiously, even, his head having tilted curiously at the mention of spells, as if he didn't know what to make of the word. They made their way toward the armchairs and she cast a silencing charm around them before lighting the fireplace with a few waves of her wand; movements that Aidan followed with increasing curiosity. She even whispered the words so that he might hear them, which seemed to help.

"There, we can speak freely now," she said, her tone of voice normal.

Tilting his head in thought and seeming to decide to forgo pleasantries in lieu of satisfying his roused curiosity, Aidan asked a question that surprised her, "Why do you use a wand? That is what they are called, correct?" he gestured toward the one held on her hand, "Harry told me that he hasn't been able to use his lately, but I attributed his need of a focus on the uncontrolled quality of his power, is this not the case?" He looked serious, as if he had been holding this particular question in for quite some time.

Her surprise was quickly pushed aside, however, in the face of such a question, seeing as Harry's magic was a mater of great concern to all of them at the moment, and it seemed, to Aidan as well. "Yes, we call them wands," she answered, "and the way we use our magic, or power, is tied directly to it. You see, all wizards and witches use wands to perform magic, and they have been using them for thousands of years," she answered, trying to keep it simple, "it is impossible for us to channel our power without them, though some can properly control minute amounts of it without their help."

"All Gifted use these wands?" he asked, shocked. His blue eyes were wide and they darted towards Harry constantly and back at her and then her wand, as if he were putting the pieces of a puzzle together. When he turned towards her, Aidan's eyes were oddly focused, intense, as he asked his next question, "So the wild, untamed nature of Harry's power didn't happen because he released it completely without consent and then tried to control it anyways?"

Perplexed, Hermione tried to make sense of this statement, "What do you mean, without consent? All we know is that Harry's magic went out of control in a way that we haven't been able to identify and there wasn't anyone both trustworthy enough and capable enough available to help him to bring it back under his will. Our magic, when uncontrolled, comes in bursts of undirected desire, making things happen around us," she explained, her voice becoming dim as she saw the look of horror crossing Aidan's boyish face, but still forged on, wanting the boy to understand Harry's situation, "Our Magic cannot be released in the physical sense, it does not manifest itself in such a way. The way that Harry's magic was behaving, becoming tangible, even, is unheard of," she told him.

Faintly, the boy asked, as if trying to make sure, "You never fully release your power, then? You never meet its Guardian? It's Sentinel? Ask it for its blessing and teachings? Do you ever see the shape of it? Your power's true form; its representation, have you never searched for it? Do you not become one with it?" he continued asking, his voice becoming both more desperate and more frantic at the look of confusion that she was sure her face was conveying. "Does your power, your magic, even have a form?" he finally asked.

When Hermione simple shook her hear, Aidan slumped in his seat, "Dear Light," he exclaimed, forlorn as he looked toward Harry once more, "I had though...I was hesitant," he muttered, "I did not understand. Please forgive me," he finished, and to Hermione it seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from the teen's shoulders, even if he seemed somewhat overwhelmed by whatever conclusions he had dawn.

Relief flashed briefly across his features, though, and the cautious air that had covered him like a mantle, the hesitation that had been clear even in his voice, was suddenly gone. "Aidan? What do you mean by all of that? I don't understand."

"Of course you don't!" he exclaimed, his tone not malicious, but one of dawning comprehension. "You see, Hermione," he leaned forward, his countenance becoming as bright as the light within Harry's sapphire, brighter even, and even now she could see it shining from beneath the covers covering Harry as he slept, "It was because of Harry's uncontrolled power that I was able to find him, that and the fact that it remained out of his control for so long. It was like a beacon to us. I was very grateful for that, but in my world, in _Lumentia_, to loose control to such an extent means one of two things.

"The most common of which is that a Gifted, or power user, called upon his full power, freeing it, only to try to subjugate it and place it under his complete control, loosing their connection with it and their blessing. This is not only a taboo in my world, but it is one of the most heinous of crimes, and even then, from the few that have tried, none have succeeded," he explained.

"And this is what you thought that Harry had done?" She asked, trying to understand what he was explaining. Horrified at the thought, for if their power was sentient, she could see how such an act should be forbidden. If he had thought that Harry was doing this, oh dear…but then, he was still here, was he not?

"Yes," he said in self-recriminating tones, "I suspected as such, seeing as I found Harry with his power completely awakened and with him trying to control it, to subdue it. Only someone with a complete disregard for life would dare do such a thing. At the time, I didn't give it a though, so glad that I had found my soul's equal that I didn't completely register the circumstances; I even became worried that my soul mate was corrupt," his tone was soft and his eyes were anguished, "Later, I came to see that his power was not rejecting him, and that in a way, free as it was, at odds with him as it seemed to be, their wills separate and with Harry wanting to control it, his power still wanted to protect him and sometimes even responded to him. This showed itself when his power responded to Harry's wish to ground me in this world.

"But I understand now, I understand that he wasn't doing it consciously, that his power was still acting in his behalf. If what you said is true, and you truly do not let your power free as we do, that it does not have a physical form, then my fear has been misplaced, for Harry only tried to subdue his Power out of ignorance. I was cautious, and I did not know how to act, but now I know," he finished, looking both relieved and happy, without any worries, "Indeed," he said suddenly, as if just realizing something, "it seems that your power, your magic, is very different in nature from our own."

That would explain why Harry's magic seemed so, well, _alive_. How it could have sought and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes. It had always been strange how Harry could pull off some feats of Magic that were beyond anything any wizards could accomplish, but later had to spends days to get a simple charm mastered.

If Aidan's and Harry's power were the same, and it was truly alive, then it would explain so much, especially if Harry's power were bent on protecting him; if fully freed and with only this thought in mind while Harry was in mortal danger, then what happened was merely a result of Harry's power protecting him in the best way it could; by destroying Voldemort. But still, "I think I understand enough of what you're saying, Aidan, but how exactly do you think that our magic and your power differ? And if they _are_ different, then why is Harry's own magic similar to yours?"

Clasping his hands, Aidan seemed to draw inward, "It could easily be that Harry is an exception in your world, probably because he is my soul's equal, a bond that was established upon my birth. Since the Sentinels Gift someone with their power in the first year of their life, they could have Gifted Harry then, following the newly formed link between our souls, though the reasons behind such actions elude me."

Lifting his head, he continued his explanation, his eyes thoughtful, "In my world, our power is an intricate part of our existence; there are those who are Gifted with it, and those who are not. Since the very beginnings of our history this has been the case; the ones who decide who is worthy of wielding it or not are called Sentinels. Like I said, we are not born with our power, but it is bestowed upon us by one of these twelve beings, who are the keepers of the totem's that make up our Gift. If I am not mistaken, your own magic does not come in such a manner, but it is a part of you since birth, correct?"

"Yes," she nodded absently; trying to absorb and understand what seemed like a different way of magic altogether, "Our magic runs in our families, in our blood, though there is the occasional witch or wizard who comes from a non-magical family. But if your theory is correct and Harry was Gifted by the Sentinels of your world, as you say, that still does not explain why he isn't able to use his wand at the moment."

"That might be because now that his power is free," the transparent boy answered after a long pause of consideration, "the only way for Harry to use it will be for him to get to know it first and come to an agreement with it and the totem's that conform it; at the moment, his will and the will of his power are at odds. This could be blocking his magical abilities, overwhelming them."

And since this power was sentient, it could easily do just that, Hermione realized. Her thoughts and conclusions, however, were voiced within Aidan's speculations, "It could be that once his power settles, he would be able to once again use this world's magic."

Finally understanding at least some of the situation, even if she didn't quite grasp the idea of this other world's power, she got to the point that had worried her and those who knew of Harry's situation the most, "And how could he do this? Harry is a very high profile person within our community. If he cannot use his magic, there are those that will take advantage of it, he is not safe at the moment." True, she knew that Harry already had his plans, but he hadn't talked to Aidan about them yet or else the other boy wouldn't look quite as worried as he did now.

When he asked what she meant about Harry being 'high profile' she settled a little in her chair and told the boy just who Harry Potter was in the eyes of the wizarding world. If she knew her friend, she knew that he would never truly tell anyone about his life, and if he did, it would be completely understated and with the merit given to everyone but himself. Something told her, however, that Aidan needed to be made aware of Harry's history sooner rather than later, and it was best if he had the unabridged version.

True, it took quite a while, but she wanted him to understand the whole situation. And while something caught her attention on the other side of the room halfway though her explanations, she continued nonetheless. Finishing her account with the current state of affairs as it concerned Harry, she looked at the frowning boy across from her; his eyes were downcast, his eyes thoughtful, "So you see, Harry can't afford to be without his magic or at least some way of defending himself from it; should anyone find out about its condition, well, I am afraid to even think of the possibilities."

Slander would be the least of Harry's troubles, she was sure.

"I understand," he said softly, his eyes shining as he spoke, "However, he would need to summon the Sentinel that Gifted him with his power and ask for its guidance and its teachings. He would need to see the shape of his power and its strength, the spirit or spirits that represent it and compose it; its totem's. He would need to become one with them until he was whole. Piece by piece, he would need to master them and learn from them, until he and his power can become one, their will united; their trust, unbroken."

Trying to give nothing away, as she saw movement from the other side of the room, she asked the question that she somehow already knew the answer to, "And how will Harry be able to do this, then? How do we summon his Sentinel?"

Shedding a tear, sadness glowing out of his eyes, Aidan simply shook his head, "I do not know. There are no others within this world who can wield the same kind of power, of that I am now sure, and thus there is no one able to help Harry or to summon the Sentinels. If someone were able to wield the same power that I within this world, it would be readily apparent. Without a Gifted you could probably find another way, but the preparations alone would take years, the sacrifices would be many. I myself would not be able to do anything, for I cannot channel the amount of power needed for a summoning without breaking our link or risking Harry's death. He could attempt to come to an agreement with his Power without their Sentinel, but that is a dangerous undertaking, since they would have no way of communicating their wishes and come to an accord; it could take years for them to understand each other. The only way that he would be able to effectively use his power once more," he stated, lifting his eyes to meet hers, "would be to, well…" he hesitated, as if unwilling to voice it.

"Would be for me to travel to your world and learn of my Power from its place of origin," came Harry's voice, startling Aidan something awful. The boy almost broke his neck do to whiplash, she was sure.

Hermione offered her friend a slight smile as he stood up from his sitting position on the bed, from where he had been listening to their conversation since he had awakened. Harry hadn't interrupted while she told Aidan of his life, though she could see that he had wanted to do just that on a few instances, but for some reason he hadn't. Now, however, he came over, still dressed only his pajama bottoms.

She did not miss the quick, darting glance that the intangible boy sent Harry's way.

"I, well," Aidan began, looking somewhat lost on what to say, as if he wanted to reassure Harry, but not knowing how; as if he wanted desperately to find a solution without having Harry suffer for it, to loose his world for it, but finding no other way. He didn't speak again, probably not wanting to say something that would make Harry's choice more difficult then it already was, and seeing that the other boy thought that should one of them cross to the others world, then they would not be able to return, from his perspective, Harry's choice would be all that much harder.

She was not surprised when Harry knelt in front of Aidan, his hands emitting a fain glow as he placed them on Aidan's knees, actually _touching_ them, and looked up at the other boy, who in turn looked completely stunned. Hermione was sure that Harry wasn't supposed to be able to use his power, that is, unless their wills and their desire was the same, if she understood the whole thing correctly.

Locking eyes, Harry simply told the other boy, "You don't have to worry; I have already made my decision. I made it that first day after I met you, and I have been preparing a way so that I might someday come back to my own world, maybe even establish a permanent gateway," he told the other boy, whose eyes were wide and his expression disbelieving, "I choose to go to _Lumentia_, my little light, with you. And I hope that you will help me find a home there, that you will help me learn of my power."

"But, your world, your friends…" the ghostly teen tried to say.

"This world doesn't need me anymore and my friends will wait until I find a way to return. Besides, I will have your friendship as well, wont I?" he asked, and Hermione giggled at the frantic nod that the blue-eyed boy gave Harry, "If everything works, I will still be able to speak to them at the very least. You have to understand, Aidan, this is my choice, my wish; something that I haven't had a lot of in my life. Even if none of my plans work, and I still find myself without a way to come back, it is still my wish to go with you; so, will you help me?"

Dazed by now, the only thing that Aidan could so was nod slightly, probably overwhelmed by what was happening. And seeing that his soul mate was going to his world, well, Hermione couldn't blame him.

"Good," she said, standing up, "then you should know that most of the preparations are complete then. Harry, Flitwick said that he had everything ready so we can go to Hogwarts tomorrow to finish casting the last few charms."

"Really?" her friend asked, and as he turned back to look at Aidan, she couldn't help but feel that the other boy's mind broke at Harry's next words, "Do you think that I might be able to cross to your world tomorrow?"

**oOOoOOo**

It took a while to get Aidan to snap out of his shock and to explain their plans to him, as well as their preparations. While he protested quite a bit on a few accounts, saying that Harry didn't need to bring any money, for example, or too many clothes, since they used different garments in his world, he was won over on most accounts with the simple reasoning that Harry didn't know if he would be able to return to his world, so he wanted to be prepared, even if Aidan promised that he would be well taken care of.

Still, when the notion finally sunk into the other boy, he had become frantic, saying that he would need to prepare everything for Harry's arrival and babbling a great many things that neither of them understood. With that parting note, however, the translucent boy had simply faded after a quick farewell. Harry wasn't sure weather to be bemused or flattered that the other teen would go to such lengths to make him feel welcome and simply shook his head as he went followed Hermione down to the kitchen.

After seeing all of the packages, he had sent Hermione on her way so that she might get some rest and had taken all of the things that his friends had acquired for him and spent the night sorting through them and packing them. Books, being some of the most spatial consuming of his belongings, especially since this included a selection of the Black Library, took one whole trunk, while everything else went into one of two compartments in his other trunk; new acquisitions of his as well. And while both of them were bottomless, Hermione had been adamant on him packing the books separately.

He had even bought seeds for the different magical plants needed for the most common of potions, just in case he needed them, and that wasn't even his most strange purchase. He wasn't really sure what awaited him on this whole new world, but something told him that it would be very different to what he knew. Just the concepts behind their magic were confusing to him, but Aidan's explanations were cryptic enough to rouse his curiosity to new heights.

Really, he couldn't wait to see it!

When he finished packing everything, checking and double checking against the list that Hermione had conveniently left him for this very purpose, he wrote a few letters before finally going to bed. And though he wasn't very sleepy, he knew that he needed to rest, so he closed his eyes and forced his mind to clear, laying still until sleep claimed him once again, even if it took a fair amount of time to do so.

**oOOoOOo**

"Are you sure of this, Mr. Potter?" was the first thing that greeted him when he arrived at the Headmistress' office.

Harry just smiled a lopsided smile, his eyes bright at the thought of what was to come, "Yes, Professor."

Lips pursed, she seemed to scrutinize his face for a few moments before nodding slightly, as if she had found what she was looking for, "Very well," she finally said, a small smile finally making an appearance in her strict demeanor, "If you would follow me, then," she turned and gestured for him, "Professor Flitwick, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger are waiting for us."

"What about my trunks, Professor?" he asked as he followed her out of her office.

She looked sideways at him as they walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, "The House Elves will take them to the room we have selected."

"Oh, right," he said sheepishly.

Still, he had to admit, even if only to himself, that he was slightly nervous. True, with all the precautions that they were taking, it was a fair bet that nothing would go wrong, but there was still the possibility that he would not be able to come back. He had written letters to the Weasley's, Neville, Luna and Remus, and even to Ron and Hermione, just in case, but he felt somewhat ashamed at not being able to say goodbye to most of them in person.

True, it was not safe at the moment without his magic, and they couldn't risk any of the remaining Death Eaters learning about his plans, but it had been a hard decision to make, even with the consolation that he might yet speak to them later, when he was safely on Aidan's world. That is, if he was able to communicate back at all.

It wasn't a very encouraging thought, that, so he pushed it out of his mind.

However, he knew that this is what he needed to do; his Magic, his Power, his Heart, his Mind, his Soul, and everything and anything else that made him who he was were telling him that he needed to do this; that he _wanted_ to do this.

And it had been a long time since he had done something because of no other reason than his own desires, however selfish they might be; however shallow they might seem. In truth, he was doing this for himself and no one else.

It was a truly liberating feeling.

When they reached the small unused room at the top of one of the smallest towers, the smile on his face had turned into a full blown grin of excitement. This particular tower was rarely used and its rooms used for gests of the school, rare as they were. At the very top of it was a small room, much like an attic, whose walls held the rafters that supported the conical roof of the tower, and stretched up high into a pointed ceiling. Much like the divination classroom, the entrance was hidden by a trap door, only that in this case it was located by a windowed corridor that appeared to be a dead end.

As he poked his head after climbing the ladder, he saw his trunks pushed against the wall, Flitwick and Hermione bent over a book and Ron spelling some furniture out of the way. He quickly scrambled up the rest of the way and gave the Headmistress a hand, alerting the other occupants of the room to his arrival.

"Harry, mate," Ron exclaimed from the other side of the room, "you're finally here."

The redhead quickly made his way across the room, and easy feat that was accomplished in a few stride of his long legs, and gave him a few hearty slaps in the back in greeting, "Heya, Ron, how's it going?"

"You should really see this, mate," Ron steered him into the room after nodding at McGonagall, who was now joining Hermione and the Charms teacher.

He was going to ask what he was talking about when he saw it with his own eyes. True, it had been his idea, but he had never thought about it over much. Now, as he saw the mirror of Erised once more, he couldn't help but tell the difference; where before it had been a single mirror as tall as the ceiling of that old classroom, now it was no more than two smaller mirrors of the same size.

They were still as magnificent as the original, even in their reduced size: which was still a good four feet tall. The frame was the same as the one that he remembered, just as elaborate, but the inscription had changed, and as he looked more closely he noticed that the inscriptions in each mirror were different. Now, carved on top of one of the mirrors he read: _Noitcelfer slauq eymt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Knowing now how to read it correctly, however he could easily decipher its meaning: _I show not your face but my equal's reflection_.

Understanding quickly dawning on his mind, he swiftly read the carved inscription on the other mirror: _Ohcest rapretnu ocymt ubeci ovru oyt on raehi_, which after some trouble with a few of the words he made out to mean: _I hear not your voice but my counterparts echo._

Turning toward the grinning Ron, he exclaimed, "These are brilliant!"

"I'm glad that you think so, Mr. Potter," came Flitwick's excited voice, as he made his way to where they were standing, "It was a fair bit to divide the original enchantments and the mirror itself, not to mention altering them to suit our needs, but it was a fascinating project." The small professor was literally bouncing as he explained this, "With the true purpose of the mirror now changed, even though the enchantments did falter slightly at first, they are now as strong as the originals. If everything works out as we hope, should you desire it, the mirrors will allow you to communicate with its counterpart. Already we have tested them out here at Hogwarts, we will just have to see if they work as well across dimensions."

"Thanks, Professor," he said sincerely. Though he had derived the idea from his Father and Godfather's own mirrors, he really didn't know if it could be pulled off. True, they had researched the possibility, but it had quickly become apparent that the inherit magic of the mirror would need to be extremely strong for it to work across dimensions, and while he immediately knew that the Mirror of Erised would be powerful enough for this endeavor, modifying the charms and enchantments on it to make his idea possible was completely out of their league. Truly, without the help of their diminutive professor it would have been impossible for them to attempt, not to mention everything else that he and McGonagall had helped with. After all, the mirror was not their only safeguard.

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Potter," the charms master piped up, "Now, is everyone ready? We need only to cast the _Fidelius_ and all will be set for your departure."

Smiling, Harry simply nodded, knowing that McGonagall and Flitwick had helped in preparing the rest and only the secret needed to be placed into his soul, something that was easily done by the new Deputy Headmaster after a lengthy chant. It wasn't a flashy piece of magic at all, and the only indication that it was successful was that when finished, everyone, including Flitwick himself, noted that the trap door had vanished and that they couldn't see out the windows.

It was their hope, that with the combination of enchantments between the mirrors and the small soul-link between this room and the secret that he now carried within his soul, along with a small amount of other measures, that it would permit for a connection between the two dimensions to form, allowing Harry to have an anchor back in his original world. Seeing that the room was part of the most magical building in the world, it was their best bets in making this happen.

"The room that houses a part of the Mirror of Erised can be found on the tenth floor of the small Visitor's Tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he related, knowing the Secret without having to think about it.

"Well done, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, smiling slightly as the trap door reappeared, "Now, if you could write the secret in this piece of parchment, we will be able to reveal this location to the rest of your friends later on." She passed him a parchment and quill as she explained the rest, "Dobby the House Elf will be charged with keeping an ear on this room, should you wish to speak to anyone."

"Thank you, Headmistress," he said, passing the parchment over to her, gratitude etched on his features.

The next thing he knew, he was engulfed into a hug by Hermione, Ron following soon behind her, saying their goodbyes, extracting his promise that he would take care of himself, and that he should keep in touch with them as much as possible. They wished him the best of luck even as Hermione assured Ron that Aidan would take good care of him, even if the wink she threw his way as she said this was somewhat confusing.

Giving the letters he had written to Hermione, his trunks were levitated to the center of the room along with the other half of the mirror and a smaller chest with a few things that the Headmistress had prepared for him, even as another round of goodbyes ensured. With a final nod at his Professors and a smile to his friends, he took out the glowing sapphire that hung from his neck and held it tight, it had been warm for quite some time now. With a final look around he spoke, his voice steady but happy.

"I'm ready, Aidan."

And with that and a wash of white light that flowed from the crystal like water, covering both Harry and his belongings, he was gone, leaving his best friends and Professors with the image of his brilliant smile in those last moments etched within their minds; it brought a thought within them that made them understand his choice to leave a great deal more.

For they had never seen him smile so freely before.

-

**TBC…**

-

**Author's Notes: **There you go! _Whew!_ Was this chapter hard to write! Tell me what you think about it, ne? Did you like it? Was your tail wagging by the end? Are you hoping for more? Well, let me know all of this and more! _Review!_

_-Throws __Scooby-snacks into the crowd-_


	4. Observations

**Disclaimer: **I own a Car a Watch and some 178 Books. Alas, I don't _own_ Harry Potter. However! If anyone wants to add onto the things I own, feel free to send them over; I could use some empty DVD's and pajama bottoms, among other things.

And if you have cheese-themed pj's, all the better, I say.

**Pick My Brain: **Aha! As I promised in the last story I updated, a new chapter awaits your reading pleasure! I quite liked it and it sets things nicely for what's coming up next.

To all of those who read this; thank you for being so patient! I give my word that the next chapter won't be so long in coming. Indeed, it's already half-way written!

-o

**Observations**

-o

He was warm and floating in a bubble of light that felt like it was moving at great speeds, even if his body didn't seem to register it. His magic was singing and something within him felt lighter with each second that passed. He wasn't disoriented, no, but the sensation of spinning was still there.

It was both strange and slightly exhilarating.

Like a rollercoaster that you couldn't see and couldn't _truly_ feel, where light and touch were constant and some other, more mystical sense was the one truly experiencing it all. Time had no meaning to him, its passage seemingly infinite and instantaneous. Something called to him, however, pulled at him, and he tried to grasp it. When he was almost touching it, the light around him seemed to burst, like a bubble popping, and he was suddenly in a whole new place.

In a completely different universe.

Seeing how jarring portkeys were and how uncomfortable apparition had turned out to be, Harry had really expected something close to a plane-crash-type feeling for otherworldly travel. He couldn't feel happier at being wrong.

Now, as his eyes began to focus and the spots dissipated as he blinked, he found himself in a place that should be impossible; the room he'd arrived at, if it could even be called a room, shouldn't even be standing! A huge hall with curved, convex walls and a sweeping ceiling with nothing visible to support it was the very first thing he noticed. The people surrounding him, however, were the second, grabbing his attention from his the unfeasible surroundings.

He would look at them later, when he was completely sure that nothing would fall on him because he was looking at it wrong.

There were three individuals around him, with him in the center of a triangle. Directly on his left stood an imposing looking woman, her face neutral and her arms, draped with voluminous sleeves, were crossed beneath her ample bosom. Slighty behind and to his right was a tall man with a gentle air around him, oval glasses and a kind expression; if anything, Harry could clearly imagine this man with a thick, heavy book in his arms.

In front of him was someone who he had already met, though, and his little light seemed almost frozen in place; eyes wide and disbelief flashing across his face, "Yo-you're really here," the other teen muttered, taking a small, wavering step forward.

A smile formed on Harry's lips and he flowed to his feet with a gentle fluttering of his robes, "Of course I am. You should know— you were the one who brought me here," he commented lightly as he walked slowly toward his souls equal.

And wasn't that a strange thought?

He could feel something, and he realized with a jolt that that pulling sensation that had guided him here was still there, and that it led him towards the boy in front of him.

The realization warmed him, and the thought of having a soul-family, or something like it, didn't seem quite so strange anymore. In fact, he rather liked the idea.

"I can barely believe it," the blue-eyed boy said softly as he started swaying where he stood.

Harry was in front of him in a heartbeat, holding the younger teen up in a tight yet gentle hug, ignoring the suddenly offensive postures of the two other occupants of the room, or the feel of his magic ebbing and flowing around him, shining brightly and pulsing to an unknown rhythm. When it had surfaced, he didn't know, but it was reaching toward Aidan as if to comfort him; and he was glad for it. "Shouldn't you be resting, my little light? Couldn't you have greeted me with a projection?" he asked whisperingly into the trembling boy's ear.

"I . . ." the boy began before trailing off; sniffing slightly as he rested his head on Harry's shoulder, "I just had to make sure," he whispered, pressing his hands on Harry's back as he returned the hug, and Harry could feel them trembling as they grasped onto his robes, "You," Aidan stated in a broken whisper, "You're _here_," and his tone sounded awed and disbelieving all at once.

"I am," he told his little light, not completely understanding, but certainly feeling just how powerful Aidan's emotions were at that moment, how heightened. And really, living the kind of half-life that he had been living, suddenly having Harry there must be both overwhelming and a relief. Like a dying man finally being able to see and touch that which would cure him.

Though Harry couldn't help but feel that there was much more than that flowing out of Aidan at the moment. Just like he could feel that there was more from his side as well. Already his own magic, white and blinding, was settling around them like a cloak, formless yet protective.

"You're really here," the younger teen whispered again, more clearly this time, as he bent slightly backwards so that he could look Harry in the eyes, not once leaving his steadying embrace. A delicate hand came from behind him, and Harry adjusted his grip so that they were better balanced, even as that hand, still trembling, touched his cheek with a reverence that the black-haired wizard couldn't believe possible. "I was joyful, you know, when I found you," Aidan told him, and Harry couldn't and wouldn't have broken their gaze. For some reason, his chest tightened. "But now, I do not think I have words that could express how I feel. You just came, knowing the risks, when you haven't known me for more than a few days. Truly, I do not know how to thank you. Even now, as we stand here, I already feel better than I ever have. Already is my soul healing . . . it feels, for the first time, _complete_."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, didn't know how to respond to the sheer awe seeping out of his little light, so he just tightened his arms around him, glad to be able to help; happier than he could clearly express, really.

It wasn't something that he'd ever felt before, for that matter.

Still, he didn't have much time to think too much about it seeing that Aidan suddenly closed his eyes and leaned completely into him. If Harry hadn't been braced to better support his weight they would have both fallen to the floor. As things stood, he was able to catch the shorter teen and, without thought, crouched slightly and took him into his arms, cradling him to his chest.

He didn't panic either. Somehow, someway, he could feel that Aidan was only tired; Exhausted, even. The other boy didn't even weigh much, though he was sure that that was his magic's doing.

He could see the pearly white glow of it eddying through his skin; both helpful and supportive.

Turning in place, he looked toward the other occupants of the hall and paused, blinking. Upon the auburn-haired man's shoulder stood a lanky, but oddly graceful bird. Harry only got the impression of the sweeping neck, the long beak and the longer legs under its bright blue plumage before his attention moved to the more disconcerting figure of the glaring brunette woman and the black bear at her heal.

Where these the Guardians that his little light spoke of? Would his power attain an animal form as well? Did everyone's power have such a form in this world for that matter? And more importantly, what exactly could you do when your magic, if it _was_ magic, which he wasn't so sure of at the moment, was outside of you and independent from you?

Harry had so many questions suddenly running through his head that his mind blanked and he decided to wait until later for the answers. At the moment, he had more pressing concerns than his magic and its formless state. His little light, as if hearing his thoughts, snuggled closer to him.

He was sure that Aiden had mentioned something about having healers, teachers and guardians helping him out with the ritual used to find him, so he had been expecting more people to be around for this. In which category did these two fall, then? And, come to think of it, what about Aiden's own parents? Did the other boy even have any?

The sudden lack of information on his little light felt quite disconcerting; something to be remedied as soon as possible, he knew.

He tightened his arms unconsciously and shifted Aidan even closer to him, looking at the tensed figures in front of him. Was it him, or were the animals shining slightly? He shook his head and blinked at them, suddenly deciding that these were probably Aiden's guardians, since he couldn't see teachers or healers reacting so defensively.

Clearing his throat, he addressed them, "Aiden is exhausted, could you lead me to his quarters? He really shouldn't have been here in person, given his condition," and it was only after he finished speaking that he realized that he hadn't even introduced himself, or asked for their names or said anything at all to make them less hostile towards him. Indeed, he just kind of ordered them around without thought; why had he done that? And why did he not introduce himself, at the very least?

Instead, his first concern had been to his little light. Nothing seemed as important as that, not at that moment.

He frowned.

It felt oddly right, however, and by the way the two strangers relaxed, they thought it quite right as well. He could feel his brows furrowing deeper in thought, but followed the tall man when he beckoned him to do so, and watched in fascination when the blue bird shimmered and seemingly sunk into him.

Ha! So he was right, the animals were their magic, or the shape that their power took when outside their bodies.

And wasn't that completely wicked? He couldn't wait 'till he could better communicate with his own power; what form would it take? And for that matter, what did the different shapes represent? And really, would your power need to be visible to work?

Another thing that caught his interest was the way this place was built. Everywhere he looked things curved gently and melded together. There was not one straight line in the whole place and it made him feel both disoriented and relaxed. He smiled down at his little light, already having so many things to ask him, and so many things to tell him.

"My name is Boreas," his redheaded guide finally spoke, startling him out of his musings, and Harry wondered if there were such a thing as greetings in this world, "And I am named after the north winds," not once did the man look back at Harry, even if his voice was gentle and informative, "The lady behind us is Mattie, and she is named thus by her strength in battle."

But then, maybe that was greetings enough?

They turned a corner and Harry glimpse a beautiful interior garden before they turned once again. Weren't there any more people in this place? It was huge! Still, his mind focused once again when Boreas began to speak, "We are the Shining Child's guardians and his guards. I understand that you might be confused about our world, but I ask that you hold your curiosity for now. The young master wishes to answer your queries himself and for those that he cannot, his teachers will be more than glad to intervene."

However gentle the man seemed, he distinctly lacked some tact, or some manners. Harry didn't know which, nor did he understand why the guard was being so short with him.

And wasn't he feeling warm and fuzzy right about now? Welcomed, even? Nevertheless, he had to consider what Aidan had told Hermione about the release of his power; maybe they knew and were weary of him, even if the whole thing was unintended? That would explain some of their attitude.

For now, though, he would have to wait and see.

At the end of the hallway, if you could call it a hallway, an arching, undulating doorway stood, and he was surprised when it opened as smoothly as it did. Truly, he could almost swear that the curving shape was familiar.

However, once he was inside he forgot all about it. The bedroom, for the nest-like bed in the middle of it could make it nothing but, was magnificent. Harry didn't know where to look at first; the clear pond within the room itself or the lush forest sprouting right outside of it. And that didn't even describe the inside of the place!

Great Merlin's Superman Stickers, but he had never seen a room as bizarre as this, or as welcoming, if that made any sense. It looked like nature had blown in the doors and made itself comfortable, though now that he thought about it, nothing about the house he was in looked terribly unnatural, really.

Amazed, he stepped pass the tall guard, ignoring the growl that Mattie seemed to be emitting and made his way straight towards the bed, where he placed Aidan gently down, or at least tried too.

The younger teen was firmly latched onto him, and from his grip Harry didn't think that the blue-eyed boy was planning on letting go anytime soon. So when a yawn almost split his face in two, Harry capitulated, shrugged, and laid down next to his little light, somewhat surprised when the other boy immediately burrowed into his side.

It was warm and endearing, and Harry realized that he hadn't really slept all that much lately. Surely a quick nap wouldn't hurt?

So he slept, ignorant of the staring eyed, the closing door and the glow of his magic draping around the both of them, both shining and warm, seeming as if a haze of heat surrounded them.

**oOOoOOo**

When he next opened his eyes, it seemed like no time had passed at all, yet he had never felt so rested. He languished in the feeling and looked around leisurely, an unconscious smile curling at his lips when he finally recognized the weight settled on his stomach.

His little light's head rested there, a slight book on his grasp, obviously reading.

Not wanting to disturb the other boy, though he was sure it would only be a matter of time before he realized that his pillow was awake, Harry took a better look at his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was, of course, that he was wearing his pajamas, along with the fact that it early morning. This meant that he'd slept a little longer than he had first intended. Why that happened was anyone's guess, but Harry didn't much mind. If by sleeping that much he could feel as good as he did now, well, then he'd be sleeping a whole lot more from now on.

Though he would need more comfy pj's if that was the case.

Which brought the question, just who had changed him into his pajamas in the first place? Unconsciously, he hoped it had been his soul's equal. He didn't want to think one of the guards were the culprits, that was for sure.

He mentally shrugged the whole thing aside, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

Blinking slowly, he then focused on the bed, if you stretched your imagination enough to give it such a description; even if he has called it that yesterday. He had been obviously tired. Anyway, the bed was more like an uneven nest; it rose and dipped and swelled around them, and he was sure that he could spot a few places where you'd be able to lounge upright quite comfortably.

It was bloody huge, too. But then, if Aidan's movements were as limited as he now suspected, the breadth of it, as well as the obviously multi-purposed-like feel of the bed had its reasons. The fact that it was brilliantly comfortable wasn't lost on him either.

Another thing he noticed was the arching ceiling, strangely devoid of any support and flowing smoothly above them, only to bend, twist and seamlessly become the walls of the room, and just as smoothly turn into floors. There were no joints or seams or anything to indicate that they were separate, and instead of one single color, the room flowed through a rainbow of them, each melding flawlessly into the next.

If it weren't for the big and small sections of glass that were set into the ceiling and walls, Harry would swear that he was inside a seashell, since that's the impression the whole room gave.

How it worked, he didn't know. But it was brilliant all the same.

"You're awake," Aidan stated lowly, and he was sure that the other boy hadn't let him out of his sights the whole time he was asleep.

It made him feel special, that, and he suppressed the blush that threatened to blood in his cheeks.

Amused at being caught so easily, Harry pulled his eyes from the rooms and twisted just enough to see his little light looking up at him from where he was lying, head still on his stomach.

"No, I'm not," he responded childishly, and laughed at the confused look on the other boys face. Raising his hand, he pulled on a lock of honey brown hair, "I'm just joking, you know."

"Oh," Aidan blushed, "I see."

"But yeah, I've been awake for a bit now, not too much though. And since you were busy reading I didn't want to bother you," Harry explained, shifting to look out the biggest window (though he didn't know if the big pane of glass in the ceiling could be considered a _window_. Did the thing even open?) so that he didn't strain his neck or something.

The day was rather sunny, and he eyed the glass suspiciously before looking around. How come there weren't any massive shafts of sunlight streaming into such an open room, anyways?

"And did you rest well?" his little light asked after a pause. Harry felt the other boy settle on his side, probably facing towards him, his tummy _still_ serving as a breathing pillow.

"Actually, I haven't ever felt quite so rested. I'm tempted to just go back to sleep and stay here for at least another week!"

"Surely not," Aidan stated, surprised, "There's so much for you to see and do. _Lumentia_ is such a beautiful world. Undoubtedly you want to see it?"

"Well, of course," Harry told him, interested in the wistful way that the other teen spoke of his world (had Aidan been able to see his own world in his condition?), and he looked at him from the corner of his eye as he continued speaking, "But there's a lot of time for that, isn't there? I can always see the rest of the world later, right? I'd much stay here until you're healed so that you can show me this world of yours yourself."

And there it was; a brief flicker of amazement in those blue eyes. It seemed that Aidan hadn't expected him to stick around too long, or even wait for him. Maybe his little light still doubted his presence there? Maybe the teen though it a dream? Surely the boy realized that Harry had come to this world to help him?

Didn't he understand that to Harry he was already part of his family?

He could actually feel it now; the bond between them. The way his power changed when he was close to the other boy. The way his power shifted immediately when Aidan was touching him.

It surged protectively and shimmered around them, and Harry could tangibly _feel_ how being close to him helped his souls equal. So how could he ever think that Harry wouldn't stay around until he was completely better?

In fact, his little light would have trouble getting rid of him even after that.

But then, maybe Aidan didn't feel his magic the way Harry was? Maybe he didn't fill the bond? Even now he could feel his power fluctuating under his skin, warm and smooth; patient. As if waiting for something. Not to mention how it enveloped the other boy as soon as he was close enough.

After a few moments of staring at him, Aidan swallowed and closed his eyes; "Do you truly mean that?" came the whispered question not long after.

Harry's hand moved on its own, and came to rest on the other boy's silky head of hair. He didn't turn to watch, however. His magic told him everything he needed to know. "You heard about my life from Hermione, right?" he spoke, and his magic, his power, wrapped around them like a white curtain, just this side of invisible, "The wizard that killed my parents, he tried to kill me, remember? When I was a baby I was hit with the killing curse; the most dangerous spell in our world. Do you know what it does?" he asked.

When he felt his little light shaking his head against his stomach, he continued, his hand idly playing with the other boy's hair, "It's a spell that forcibly removes your soul from your body." He paused when Aidan gasped, and Harry could almost feel the other boys understanding, "I should have died that night, but something happened. Something that's never happened before. Something that both stopped and reflected back the curse; until I met you, we all believed that it was my mother's sacrifice that saved me, but Aidan," he paused and shifted so he was looking into shocked blue eyes, "A great many mothers have died protecting their children, so what made me so very special? I'll tell you; it was because of _you_ that I survived, even if my mother's sacrifice played some part of it as well. While she protected me, it was you who saved me.

"You've suffered because of it, but I owe you my life. Why do you think I made the decision to come to this world so quickly? After everything you've done for me, being here and helping you is the least I can do. And it's not because of feelings of duty or obligation. I'm here because I _want_ to be here."

He wasn't prepared for Aidan to suddenly move and wrap him into the tightest hug Harry had ever experienced. And seeing how he'd been on the other end of Hagrid's and Mrs. Weasley's embraces, that was saying something.

Still, Harry returned it without reserve, and his power intensified around them, shining a brilliant white "I can feel it, you know," he whispered on Aidan's ear, "I can feel your soul."

Startled, his little light moved until their noses were touching and Harry could see the other teen's wide eyes. "You can?" came the whispered question.

He nodded, "My power, can you see it?" he received a slight nod, "It's not only covering us, its seeping into you. I can feel how it's helping your soul heal. I even have an idea of how long it will take. But my power is still unfocused and can only do so much. I get the feeling that it's waiting for something, that it's eager to _do_ that something."

"That's amazing, Harry," Aidan told him in awe, a smile appearing on his face as he pulled back a bit, "Do you know what it means?" he was asked eagerly, and he was soon being pulled into a sitting position, a tray of food placed on his lap; where it came from, Harry didn't have the foggiest. "Quickly, have some breakfast, we need to summon your Sentinel, and the sooner we do it, the better."

Bemused at the change of gears, Harry watched his little light as he took another tray of food that he was sure hadn't been there a moment ago and dug in with enthusiasm. Shrugging and taking a fork, he followed suit, "What does it mean?" he asked after a moment.

"Its remarkable, really," Aidan started to explain, his excitement coloring his voice "You shouldn't be able to feel your power yet, Harry, or even tell what it is feeling. It means that you and your power are synchronizing with each other, and that means that you're ready for it to Manifest. It shouldn't have been possible, but if you say it's happening, I believe you."

Taking a drink of a sweet-tasting juice and feeling flattered by the unconcerned and unhampered show of trust, he inquired further as to what it all represented.

"Yes, well, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I?" the blond-streaked boy asked, almost bouncing in place. It was adorable, really. "Let me explain it from the beginning; you already know that our power and your magic are different, right?"

Nodding and with his mouth full, Harry motioned Aidan to continue, though he was still having trouble differentiating between the two things; Maybe because his own magic was suppressed and he couldn't really feel it? He'd have to get used to telling them apart if they _were_ different though.

"While your magic is inherited, passed down by blood, our power is granted; gifted to us, as it were. Not everyone in _Lumentia_ is Gifted, and there aren't really any parameters to how it is granted. Indeed, the number of Gifted varies widely throughout our history and there's no standard that we can see. One generation could host one Gifted for every one hundred people, while in others it could be as few as one Gifted for every one million."

"But why does it change so much?" he inquired. Magic, for one, was not quite that picky.

"The Sentinels," Aidan answered with surety, "They are the ones that grant us our power, and so they control who is and who is _not_ worthy of it. They teach us how to use it, and, if they don't like how we are employing it, they can take it away. So of course, when our world is being particularly foolish and something like war breaks out, that is when the lowest numbers of Gifted appear. And without the help of power-wielders, wars just don't last long here."

"This world must be very peaceful then," Harry commented, amazed by the concept.

"It is, generally. We have our conflicts and difficulties, but nothing quite so large scale as full-out war. We've learned that much, at least. Still, what you need to understand is where our power comes from. There are twelve Sentinels, and when they gift us with our power, they do not give us specific abilities from the beginning, but a seed.

"How we grow and mature, how we change and what we do affect our power in incomprehensible ways. Slowly that seed bears fruit and by the age of seven, when we learn to unlock our power, that seed has grown into a solid foundation; Our Guardian."

"You say that as if this Guardian is alive," Harry pointed out a bit dubiously, while finishing the last of his delicious breakfast, "And besides, I'm not exactly seven, now, am I?"

His little light nodded, though, and explained, "You're not, and they are, Harry. Alive, that is. In a way, the Guardian _is_ your power, and it _is_ a sentient, intelligent being. Many say that a Guardian is born from the Sentinels themselves and as such, act as a link between you and them. Other's speculate that a Guardian is a soul that inhabits your power and lives and experiences life through you, and because of it, understands you better than anything or anyone else."

"Wait a minute," he gestured, confused, "are you telling me that there's something else inside of me? That my power, this Guardian, is alive within me?"

"In a way," Aidan smiled, "but I'm getting a bit confusing, aren't I? Why don't I just show you? After all, the reason why I'm so excited is because you can _feel_ your power, is it not? And that is the first step. Now we just need to summon your Sentinel and Manifest your Guardian. And then we'll be able to see the shape of your power."

"I don't quite understand, but sure," Harry said and, spotting his trunks standing by the door, he got out of bed and made his way over, rummaging on the top one for a change of clothes, "Just let me get some fresh clothes one, eh?"

"Certainly," the younger teen agreed, carefully swinging his legs over one of the flat sides of the bed and looked at him while he changed, "I sometimes forget that others have to change garments all the time."

Looking over after pulling on a jumper, Harry noticed that the other boy was wearing the same skin-tight suit as when he first saw him, "Don't you have to change as well?" he asked, interested.

"Not as often. This suit has quite a few properties, you see; from keeping me clean to helping me walk; it enhances my strength and reinforces my muscles enough to grant me some freedom of movement. More importantly, it channels my power and as such, it allows me to project myself more easily. After all, the most difficult part of projecting is doing it with something that is not a part of you."

"So you could project yourself starkers if you weren't careful?" he looked over, surprised.

"Exactly. But then, that's what the suit is for," Aidan responded with a smile.

Tying up his trainers, Harry looked at the mirror leaning against the wall and made a mental note to ask for a place to place it. After all, he had agreed with Hermione and Ron to try to make contact three days after his arrival. Shaking his head, he finally made his way over to the other boy, "Alright, I'm set, so how is this going to work?"

Aidan just smiled a small, mischievous smile, and held out his hand, "Help me up and I'll take you somewhere where I can show you."

With a smile to match Harry did just that, and upon seeing how shaky the other's feet were, he easily slid an arm around the slim waist. In fact, he could also feel his power flowing out of him and covering the other boy; helping him stand up.

It was becoming easier and easier to detect his power's willingness to help him, and he wondered just how sentient and how intelligent it was. And if there truly was a soul guiding it, how was it? Would Harry be able to come to an agreement with it?

This led him to another question. Did using this power tire you? It would explain why he had been so exhausted upon arrival. But then, maybe it only happened in dimensional travel? After all, while Aidan had been the one pulling him along, it had been his power that had protected him throughout his journey.

Was that why they were both so exhausted yesterday?

However, his thoughts faltered at the sheer wonder that stole across his little light's face, "I—I've never felt quite so steady on my feet before. I . . . I feel stronger than I've ever felt," he told Harry with awe.

Harry's smile was small and gentle, happy to be able to help, "My power is lending you a hand, as it were, but just to be sure, don't let go of me. I'm not sure if it will keep helping if you're not close enough."

With a suddenly shy smile, Aidan slipped his own arm around Harry's waist and comfortable, they set out in a slow pace. Harry kept a close eye on the other boy, wondering why his body was so weak; just why did his body suffer when it was his soul that was damaged?

Harry didn't quite understand.

Still, he didn't ask. There were too many things that he didn't know, so he wanted to take things one at a time. Already his head was swimming with the mechanics of how power was granted here, and who did the granting. And he was sure that there was even more to it than what Aidan had said. He felt that until he understood that better, he wouldn't be able to understand everything else.

After all, this world and its Gifted seemed to be irreparably linked. And if those with power played such a big role, knowing how that power worked, and controlling his own was the first step in understanding everything else.

If nothing else, it was an interesting adventure.

When they were approaching the door, something caught his attention. Aidan, not pausing in his steps, raised a hand slightly and flicked his wrist and, well, _something_ big came out and opened the door. It was nothing but a light distortion of air, but Harry got the impression of even more.

Could that have been Aidan's power? Could it have been the shape it took when outside his body? And if so, then what was it? What shape did it take? And why didn't he allow Harry to see it?

By the impish little grin that his little light aimed his way, Harry was sure that it was intentional, and he had the almost irresistible urge to tickle the answers out of him.

Still, some higher power (his curiosity) stayed his hand and he just pinched the other boy in the ribs. He would be getting his answers soon enough, he knew.

"Hey, what was that for?" his little light asked, half guilty, half indignant.

Harry didn't answer, too surprised to say anything else. For beyond the doors and striding in their direction was an imposing old man, and behind him a griffin was rearing, wings flapping, beak opened and ready to utter a cry.

Harry could feel the power simply pouring from them in waves.

"Master Damian?" Aidan said in astonishment.

The old man looked balefully at his little light, a sharp expression in his gnarled features. "Do not give me that look, young one; you knew very well that I was coming to see you today, or did you forget?" The griffin settled beside the old man and stepped threateningly forward, "For that matter, what are you doing walking about when you know that you should not? Do you have so little regard for your life?"

Slowly, ominously, the old man took a step forward and glared at Harry with such viciousness that he thought he skin would peel off, "And who would _you_ be?" The sound of the griffin's clacking beak startled him even more.

Harry gulped, and Aidan wasn't too far behind him.

Just who the heck was this?

-o

**TBC…**

-o

**Pick My Brain****: **So, waddaya think? Good, Bad, So-So? Lemme know, eh? Oh! And you all should expect another one of my fics to be updated in three days!

This one will see some updating action next week, so stay tuned!


	5. Manifestation

**Disclaimer: **I say, now! If I owned this whole shindig, I'd be one happy bastard! After all, I wouldn't have to bust my ass working coz' I'd be filthy rich . . . which I ain't.

You getting my drift, here?

**Alert!** If you've forgotten there's _slash_ to be had later on in the story, this is, like, your gazillionth reminder!

**Pickled Brains: **What the hell? _What the _bloody_ hell?_ I just tried to bribe a kid with Scooby Snacks today, and you know what the little brat said? You won't believe this! He said, he _asked_: What are _Scooby Snacks_?

I felt old and alone for the very first time in my life. I could _feel_ death crawling up my leg like a leech (though it could have been a dog licking my foot), sucking the life outta me; my years and my youth. And there, in that sea of oldness and solitude, I asked myself; what kind of world is this that bratty little runts don't know who the hell _Scooby Doo_ is!?

Kill me now. I don't think I wanna see the next generation, if that kid is any indication.

. . . And did I just rhyme?

_Shit_.

You lot just go read this chapter. Ignore me. I'm gonna stew in my (almost) quarter century of oldness for a bit. Have a bit of a sulk, you know?

-o

**Manifestation**

-o

Aidan's arm tightened around his waist and that was enough to snap Harry out of his stunned surprise.

Just who the heck did this old man think he was, talking to his little light like that? Reprimanding him as if he were an unruly child? And what the bloody hell was he doing feeling this nervous? He'd faced down Voldemort again and again! He'd walked to dangerous situations many times and survived! It didn't matter that he didn't have his magic. It didn't matter that his power and he were at odds.

Harry would not let himself be intimidated.

_Not ever_.

Many had called him fearless before; unfailingly courageous. But that was not exactly true. It didn't mean that he wasn't afraid, but that his only fear _was_ fear. And when he found himself afraid, he feared being a cowered more than he feared what had induced such a reaction.

It was why a Bogart turned into a Dementor for him, even after he had mastered the Patronus Charm. Because they preyed on ones fears, and Harry feared his own fear. He feared fear itself.

So he stood up straight, gathered his wits about him like a cloak, and pulled Aidan closer to him, unconsciously protective.

He glared into the old man's brown eyes with a fierce, proud bearing, and his power responded. It unfurled from him like a parting sea and surged outward, loosening and dividing itself into so many tendrils that he couldn't begin to count them all.

Amazed but still stern, he watched steadily as the purely white strands of his power formed up around him and Aidan and weaved themselves into an arching dome of light; looking both delicate and violent; powerful and blinding.

Something told him, and every bone in his body agreed, that if the old man touched the startling white weave, he would perish. It was both a sword and a shield, and it answered to no one but itself, and when the day came that Harry and his power became one, it would answer to him as well.

He could feel that as if it were a promise. It echoed within him.

Aidan looked up at him briefly, his eyes wide and excited, equally amazed by what was happening, his blue gaze flitting from Harry's own astonished eyes to survey their dazzling surroundings, to watch the intricate weave of Harry's power.

"It's beautiful, Harry," his little light whispered to him.

Harry agreed, his own eagerness to learn more about his power, and whatever resided within it, skyrocketing. This was the second time it had reacted like this, though maybe not as violent as the first time, for instead of defensively, that first time it had simply unfurled and eradicated Voldemort from the face of his world.

. . . What more could it do? What other shape could it take? Did it have a limit? Would it do this again at Harry's own behest?

A throat being cleared snapped them both from their amazed perusal and Harry felt the lack of overwhelming power at the other side of the white dome. "I've reigned in both my power and my temper," said a tight gravelly voice, which Harry recognized as belonging to that crazy old man, "you can both come out of there now."

"Can you call your power back, Harry?" Aidan asked him, his voice breathy and energized. He sounded like an overexcited five year old.

Harry wasn't far from five years old himself just then.

Then he looked down at his little light for a bit and tried, coming to his senses. He asked gently within himself. He didn't try to force his will or even attempt to control his power, but made a request. He prodded it gently, asked it nicely. He even whispered lowly to it.

It didn't work.

"I—I tried asking," he told Aidan somewhat nervously. What if they were trapped here now?

Aidan just hummed a bit and nodded, "Master Damian? Would you be so kind as to back away, please? Since Harry's power reacted to you, it will be easier if you weren't too close to it."

A pause followed this request. "And why doesn't the lad just call his shield back?" came the grumpy, irritable response.

"Because he doesn't know how," Aidan replied easily.

"His power is _white_ and he doesn't know how to use it?" the old man asked, incredulous. "For that matter, why is his power white? And how do you know him? Someone with such pure a power hasn't been seen in generations, if it is indeed real. It could easily be an illusion," he reasoned scornfully, doubtfully, "Be careful that you are not fooled lad, it could kill you."

"What's he talking about?" Harry asked the other boy in a whisper, confused by this talk of color and power.

Aidan just exhaled an exasperated breath before pulling himself straight with Harry's help. "That old man is _so_ stubborn," he muttered so that only they could hear while shaking his head at Harry's question. Then his usually sweet, gentle voice rose, both sharper and more commanding than Harry had ever heard it, "Move now, Master Damian, before I move you myself. This is not a conversation to be had in this manner."

Silence greeted this statement once again; a longer, more rueful silence. "As you wish, Shining One," came the old man's voice in an oddly respectful pitch before retreating footsteps echoed down the hallway.

_Shining One?_ Harry mouthed to himself, looking at Aiden sideways and taking in his almost regal bearing. But then, as he thought about it, hadn't Boreas referred to Aidan as the Shining Child? Why would that be? It obviously meant something, that's for sure.

"Let us continue, Harry," Aidan told him, pulling him slightly, his tone light once more, even as excitement crept back into his every motion.

Looking at the still present weave of power, Harry gave Aidan a look of brief uncertainty, only to receive another gentle tug. So he walked, still supporting his little light.

The dome of white power didn't move with them, as he half expected it to, nor did it change in any way. When they were close to its edge, Aidan explained, "It is _your_ power, Harry and though you might not be able to work together yet, it won't harm you directly."

They crossed the edge of the dome, and Harry could suddenly feel every thread and every link of it, and further felt as it unraveled behind them and sunk within him once more, warm and protective in a way that he had become accustomed to; in a way that had not always been.

It felt proud of itself, as well.

"Hmph," came that same gravelly voice, "I want answers, child."

"And if you will just follow us, you will get them Master Damien," Aidan responded lightly, gesturing to the old man to come after them, his arm steady around Harry's waist. "Harry, Master Damian is one of the best physician's in _Lumentia_. He's been taking care of me for as long as I have memory."

Harry looked toward the fierce old man from the corner of his eye, looking so much like a griffin it was surprising, and saw him looking at his little light expectantly, with the cranky expression of someone who wants to know something and knows he won't be getting it as soon as he would wish.

"This is Harry James Potter, Master Damian, my souls equal," his little light declared proudly, affectionately.

Harry's cheeks heated up a bit.

The old man stopped in his tracks, a stunned look on his creased countenance.

Aidan just kept walking, taking Harry with him, and he didn't protest. Still, he looked back to watch the old man's staggered expression, even as they turned the corner, this time into the interior garden that he remembered getting a glimpse of.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking around at the riot of colors inhabiting the open garden and pushing back his questions about the old physician; there would be time enough to discover such things later. Flowers of every kind ran amok in the garden, with bursts of lively green in between and hummingbirds flitting about from here to there.

Harry could see the roof opening up above them, curbed, with undulating edges and pale, multicolored surfaces. "For that matter, what _is_ this place?"

There was so much he didn't know, and so much he learned with every question he asked and every glance he gave.

Aidan closed his mouth and gave him a fleeting smile, which just kept coming back to hover at the edge of his lips as he talked, "I forgot that you've just arrived. You must think me such a poor host. But then, we haven't really talked all that much, have we?"

The other teen gave a rueful shake of his head, "I would apologize, but I don't think you'd accept them, would you?" Harry just shook his head back at his little light with a small grin, "I thought so. Very well. This place and where we are going are very much tied together.

"You see, _Lumentia_ is divided into twelve lands, each one in honor of one of the twelve Sentinels. These lands are then divided further into twelve regions, which are named after one of the twelve stars that form the constellation of the patron Sentinel of the land. Within each region many towns and cities exist, but not all of them are alike. Each region has one central city, and each land has its main capital."

They finally turned away from the inner garden and into a vast hallway that led into smaller halls with rooms branching out of them. Harry could see that the spaces he was looking at were getting bigger and taller; roomier, even if most of them were closed or not completely visible.

Still, he continued listening to Aidan as they made their slow way forward, looking around curiously and trying to get the whole curving space pinned down.

"This place, as you asked, is the heart of the central city of one of these regions. You could say that the administrative functions of the region are handled here, along with many other things. We are the overseers of the surrounding lands and we serve its people; we are leadership, administration, education and service, all rolled into one.

"We are what government in your world is supposed to be," Aidan told him with a quirky grin.

"I see," it would explain the absolute vastness of the place, though not exactly why it was so empty. Did it mean that all those smaller halls were offices of some kind? Where they all on holiday maybe? And then, why did Aiden live here? "But I don't understand. If that's the case, then what are _you_ to this place?"

He had a very strong suspicion, but he wanted to hear it from his little light; it would explain quite a few things, he was sure. Aidan just turned; a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes as he began to speak—

"He is the lord of this region," came the grave, gravelly voice of the old man, Master Damian. He stood there, just in front of them, hands folded and looking at Harry with a severe expression, as if he were evaluating him. "Or at least, that is the equivalent term for his position. He is also a guide, a teacher and a priest. If you have a title that can encase all of those together, you will know what he is, and his responsibility to his people."

Aidan sent a reprimanding glance at the old man and pouted, "I wanted to tell him myself, Master Damian."

"You would have told the lad that you were a desk clerk, _Shining One_," and Harry could hear the affectionate barbs in the statement. The old man at least cared for his little light. That was fine with him. Damian then looked over at Harry, "He should have been more than what he is."

Harry tilted his head curiously, "How so?"

The way the old man was speaking, it seemed almost as if he blamed Harry for something.

Aidan tugged at him and continued leading him, "I'll explain it all later," he said, and they passed the old physician and continued onward. Harry let things lie; he'd ask about it later.

Now, however, Master Damian was walking with them once more. "Tell me lad, when did you arrive here? When last I left, we had just helped the young master in finding you," he frowned at Harry, "What he told us wasn't heartening news."

Harry eyed the physician closely and saw only concern for his little light, in the fierceness of his voice, the stubbornness in his jaw, the glare in his eyes. Everything was in protection of his little light.

It made him smile.

"I'm sure it wasn't," he told the old man, who seemed taken aback by his expression, "but then, the last news you received was bad news. Maybe you should hear the next part of the story before coming to any conclusions, yes? Oh, and I arrived early yesterday morning," he finished, answering the man's first question.

"Here we are," Aidan said, stopping in front of a massive bulbous door. Like everything else in the place, it didn't have a straight line in or around it. You couldn't even get one if you ran the thing over with a steamroller. It bloated outwards a third of the way up and curved sinuously so that it didn't look at all strange.

In fact, it reminded Harry of bubbles and water and foam more than anything else, and as he looked around at the curving hall that led up to it, he got the feeling of it as well.

Again, Aidan raised a hand and the air rippled before him. The door swung inwards smoothly, joining a short hall and seamlessly melting into it. As if there was never a door there at all.

"Where are we?" Harry asked in awe as they entered the vast room beyond. The air was heavy hear, but inviting.

"The Sentinel's Hollow," Aidan told him as he led him inside. "Every city and town has one, though never in the same scale. This one, being in the central city of one of the twelve regions, is bigger than most."

It was a roughly circular room, open to the sky. As they emerged from the short hall where the doors had seamlessly melded with the inner walls, they crossed a bridge and came upon the back of a massive statue. Two smaller statues were at either side of the bridge and within the water of a small pool.

When they come from behind the massive figure, Harry couldn't help but gape. Receding, multicolored, multi-tiered rooftops surrounded the Hollow like cresting waves or irregular balconies. Three other massive statues guarded another three doors to the massive space, each flanked by smaller sculptures.

Not that you can call any of them small.

Once in the middle, where a deep fountain sprouted, Aidan sat down, allowing Harry to walk the place in awe. There were twelve statues, which he imagined represented each one of the Sentinels. At the four corners of the room were the biggest ones; two males and two females. What they represented was easy enough for him to decipher.

They didn't have any one color to define them, but a multitude of shades. Harry knew that they represented the four elements. They had entered through the door guarded by the Sentinel of Water, which was female. Clockwise and to the right of it came the Sentinels of Fire, Earth and Air, in that order. How he knew to which element they corresponded, he didn't know, because they looked remarkably human and not all that different from each other. But there was something about them that just _screamed_ it.

Literally, even if they were human in shape, they gave the sense of each of their elements in small, insignificant ways.

Each of them was beautiful beyond imagining, and Harry could have spent days and days watching each and every one of them.

The smaller Sentinels were no less beautiful, of course, and each couple that flanked the elemental ones obviously belonged to that element. At each side of the Sentinel of Water, at the shores of the pool they had crossed was a mermaid and something that looked remarkably like a centaur only that from the waist down it had the body of a massive seal, or sea lion, instead of that of a horse.

To its right stood the Sentinel of Fire, and at its sides stood two creatures that Harry had never seen before. The male one was short and lithe, with pointed ears, flaming hair and clawed, cracked legs and thick tail, looking as if the skin there was burned and lava flowed beneath it, while its chest and arms blazed golden smooth in the light of the sun. The female creature, again, was much like a centaur, with the body of a giant salamander and her torso beginning where its head should have been.

"They are an Imp and a Sethlan," came the gravelly comment from beside him, making Harry almost jump. Master Damian stood there, looking at him searchingly before pointing at the statues he had been looking at in confusion. "Both creatures of fire, and the forms these Sentinels have favored for dozens of generations."

"So they haven't always had such forms?" Harry asked, supremely curious.

He wanted so much to know if there really were such sticking creatures in this world.

Damian gave him a blank, side-long gaze and shook his head slowly, "No. There was a time when they, all twelve, chose human form, and another when they appeared in complete animal shape. If you one day visit some of the older Hollow's, you will find a representation of them as such."

Nodding, Harry knew that he was being evaluated closely, but didn't much care, "How about that one?" he asked, pointing at the statue of the male Sentinel with the seal as its lower body.

"That's a Selkie," came the short response.

Frowning, Harry thought on this, "But don't selkies turn into seals? In my world they are either one or the other, depending on whether they wear their seal's skin or not."

"Ah, but we aren't in your world, now are we?" Damian asked somewhat snidely, though mostly reserved.

Harry just ignored the old man and moved to the next statues; these ones stood behind the Sentinel of Earth, who, like Water, was also female. At one side of her stood a female centaur and at the other a half man, half bull. A minotaur, if he pegged it correctly.

A creature of myth in his world.

Finally, at either side of the Sentinel of Air stood a small, winged fairy whose form seemed to blur and a male sphinx, something unheard of in his world. He looked at him most of all; with his luscious golden mane and its powerful leonine lower body.

Each of the Sentinels' statues were at least twice Harry's size and all of them were extraordinarily beautiful; they could all of them be the kings and queens of the forms they had chosen, and Harry had to wonder if they hadn't modified and perfected their chosen forms for exactly that purpose.

Humbled, amazed and awed, Harry made his way towards Aidan once more, sitting down beside him, "They're brilliant," he told his little light, as if revealing a great secret, his gaze still flitting from one to the other.

"They are the guides of this world," his little light told him in an agreeing tone of voice, a small, indulgent smile upon his lips, "And now, we shall call upon them."

Tearing his gaze from the surroundings, Harry's eyes fixed upon his little light, "What?"

"Did you think I brought you to this Hollow to see some statues, Harry?" Aidan asked him kindly, "There were other reasons, remember? In here, the connection between us and our Sentinels are strongest, and though we could call upon them from anywhere, such a thing is less taxing in a Hollow."

Nodding slowly, Harry remembered, "You spoke one time on how, to understand my power, I would have to call upon the Sentinel that gifted it to me and ask for its guidance."

"Exactly. You need another gifted to help you in this, so that he or she might call on your Sentinel and ask it for guidance; to show you the strength of your power, its shape and the totem or totems that represent it."

Eager once again, and ignoring the lingering presence of Master Damian in a shadowy corner of the room, looking at them both with a foreboding frown, Harry took his little lights hands in his own, "Are we going to do that now?" he asked excitedly.

"Of course," Aidan told him, sparing a glance at their hands and squeezing them lightly, "This fountain is here for that purpose," he gestured towards the pool of crystal clear water upon which edge they were both seated.

Smooth rocks made up its irregular edge, and four springs of water leaked slowly into the large pool. Spouts and spurts of water arched smooth and rough, big and small, creating a thin mist upon the air, even as random, gentle whirlpools formed upon its surface.

Rays of light pierced both mist and water, reflecting wildly upon the rocks.

"Now, relax. I will draw upon your power, something that can only be done in a Hollow and for this purpose; otherwise my life would be forfeit. Do not fight it, do not resist it."

Aidan's voice was as smooth and gentle as the crystal clear waters and Harry's trust for his little light was such that he didn't even twitch, when, five minutes later and after many soothing instructions, the younger boy coaxed Harry's power from him. He wondered if this was why children were so young when they did this. He doubted that the amount of trust needed to allow someone to touch your power in such a way could be freely given later on.

Harry could _feel_ his little light. He could sense him everywhere and in everything that he was.

He felt the other boy's gentle touch in every corner of his being; he could feel Aidan's mind touching his own, feel the other's tattered soul embracing his, sense him as if he were being touched _everywhere_ at the same time.

His heart was laid open, his magic, power or whatever answered an unknown call and his very being flowed out of him as his little light directed it.

Gently, coaxingly, soothingly, like an expert enchanter.

Silver power, shining, glowing, covered his little light and enticed Harry's own white power outside of himself and into the fountain. It flashed and poured out of him and spread across the surface of the water, following the sliver of silver that guided it.

If it were anyone but his little light, Harry was sure that his power would have consumed them, but it already recognized Aidan and the sapphire hanging from his neck warmed and glowed in response. It was happy to oblige, delighted to follow, eager to play or protect.

The whole process was more intimate than anything he had ever experienced, but more than comforting as well.

When all of his power was visible, seeping into the rocks, flowing with the water, dancing with the light and mist, Aidan began to speak; to explain. "We are a combination of things, each of which contribute to our individuality," he paused and we watched silently as my power whirled and danced within the fountain, its last trickled flowing slowly out of me, "There is our body and our emotions, our mind and our soul, our inner energy and our conscience, and last, our self, which is the combination of each of these.

"Seven parts make up who we are, and our power is an expression of them. It takes on the shape of an animal as a manifestation of this, and we call this animal a Totem," again, Aidan paused and Harry saw how his blue eyes became cloudy and his voice turned almost wispy, as if he were doing something else apart speaking, "Most gifted have only one totem and their power manifests as one animal. This animal is the representation of everything they are; Body, Emotions, Mind, Soul, Energy, Conscience and Self.

"However, there are a special few who have more than one totem; whose power manifests itself in more than one shape," Aidan smiled at him, "Maybe because their emotions and their mind are represented in different creatures or because their body and self fall under different classifications. Whatever the case or combination, in this case more than one totem represents them, and so their power manifests in more than one shape. I am one of these few, and that is how I became a lord of these lands."

Aidan paused and recited liltingly, "He who knows each aspect of himself well has wisdom beyond that of normal men, and so they lead and guide the world," slowly Aidan's eyes cleared and the silver of his power receded from their surroundings until only the white of Harry's own remained. "I sensed the question within your mind, and this is the answer. While my soul was the most damaged, my body reflects it because both of them are linked. I have more than one totem, and along with my soul, my body is represented by it, and tied to it. When one suffers, so does the other."

Speechless, Harry looked from Aidan to his own power and wondered at this revelation. Would this mean that if Aidan's power had not been so separated, these aspects of himself so apart, that he could have suffered more? He had the inkling that having more than one totem was rather rare, and he wondered if Master Damian's griffin was the representation of all of the man's features or if he had another animal that described the rest of him.

Would he himself have more than one totem, or would his whole being be represented by only one creature? Was it better to have more than one? Would a person with multiple totems be more able to know himself? Would having such specification and separation of each of the things that made one an individual be easier than having everything mixed up in one place? Would someone be truly able to know himself better because of it? And why would having more than one totem explain Aidan's position?

Harry didn't understand. For a brief moment, he longed for his wand and the few waves and words that would bring an effect or allow him to cast a spell, but then he remembered what his power had accomplished so far and what he had seen it do, and then imagined everything else that he didn't even know about it.

The mystery of it, however complicated and however many layers it had, was enough to quiet his inner lamentations. His power was more than his magic, he understood that now; it was forged from everything that he was and everything that made him.

Just thinking about it brought the tide of eagerness and excitement right back, and he looked to the swirling waters and mists, where his power now pulsed brightly.

And then something spoke.

"_We remember_," they said, multiple voices speaking at once, both haunting and melodious, they reverberated suddenly throughout the whole hollow. Harry would have jumped if it were not for Aidan holding him by his hands.

"_We know this light_," they said and his power flared into brilliant radiance, "_We gifted it to one not of this world_."

It was the Sentinels speaking, he realized, and Harry felt both small and incredibly special. "He is the reflection of my soul, its compliment and its equal," Aidan spoke up, his voice steady and sure, respectful but not subservient, "And he is here seeking your guidance; his power and he are at odds, as new to him as this strange world in which he has crossed."

Silence permeated the clearing and then was broken just as quickly.

"_Guidance he might be seeking, but it is not the only reason for his crossing_," a distinctly female voice spoke, smooth in its agelessness; powerful in its depths.

"_At odds might he and his power be, but still they are ever seeking harmony_," a wispy, playful baritone continued, as soft as a summer wind with the powerful undertone of riled storms and swift, destructive gales.

"_Strange as this new world is for him, he has yet crossed it without regret or misgiving. His whole being is at peace_," commented the even, motherly voice of the other female Sentinel, her tone as loving as open valleys and grassy meadows.

"_Joined souls you possess, but they are neither equal nor mere reflections. They are so much more than echoes, so much greater_," commented the warm, fiery tenor of the last of the elemental Sentinels.

Slowly, the last echo of the words drifted out of hearing and all four spoke once more, "_We remember his gift and we will guide it_."

His power flashed brightly within the fountain and something emerged from within it and stepped upon the stones opposite where they were sitting.

It was a female centaur.

And she was unlike any centaur that Harry had ever seen. Her horse half was black as night and white stained her ankles like bright socks; her hoofs a brilliant, shining silver. The upper part of her body was lithe and bare, and white as ivory; her hair was black as well and her eyes were as silver as her hooves.

She pawed the stones where she stood and sparks ignited on contact.

Harry didn't know how long she stood there, watching them, before her beautiful face creased into a dimpled smile. She looked both young and playful, both strong and yielding. She knelt at the edge of the fountain and scooped water, and some of Harry's power, with her hands.

"_Come_," she told them in a strong, motherly voice. It reminded Harry of when the Earth Sentinel spoke, but instead of the all encompassing protectiveness of that voice, hers was more direct; she reminded him of mountains and peaks and forests.

Aidan tugged at him and Harry stood, helping his little light as they made their way around the fountain. From the corner of his eye, he saw Master Damian, and the thoughtful look on his face helped soften the previous harshness of his expression.

When they approached the Sentinel, she was cradling her hands carefully, and Harry watched as a brilliant ball of white power, his power, rested there. She paid no attention to them as they sat on the nearest rock, and she began to pick at his power as if it were a tangled ball of yarn.

"_We were surprised to see you here, you know_," she finally spoke, her startling silver eyes fixed upon her hands, her legs folded beneath her, even as she talked with a strange sort of familiarity. She knew him through his power after all, "_Tied to the Shining Child as you are, we hoped that you might come. We planted the seed of power within you, and wondered if we might ever see it grown_."

She paused and gave him a brief, warm smile, her tail flicking idly behind her, "_It heartens us to see you here and we welcome you to our world_—" she interrupted herself and tugged sharply at the ball of power in her hand and something came loose.

A thread of brilliant emerald green light shone from between her fingers and before Harry could speak up or ask anything, she _pulled_ on it. It felt strange and disconcerting, but not uncomfortable, as a thread of his power was separated from the rest. His whole body tingled with it and he watched, astonished, as the white of his power darkened to a golden shade and the brilliant green gathered in her hands.

She spun it and weaved it until there was no more green left, and his power shined a brilliant gold.

"_Such pure light_," she breathed as she looked upon the ball of green power in her hands. When she looked up at him, Harry was struck by the sheer delight in her features, even as she gestured to the rest of his power and he watched it obey, returning to him like water.

"It's beautiful, Harry," Aidan finally spoke from beside him.

He agreed, but was still confused, "What's going on?" he whispered to his little light, his eyes never leaving the Sentinel as she prodded at the piece of his power that she held.

"That's one of your totems," Aidan explained in an equally quiet voice, "And it is obvious now that you have more than one," he said, even as the last of his power seeped back into him

He was about to ask for a better explanation when the Sentinel finally looked up, "_Our gifts mature slowly as you age and it is always a fascination for us to see how it is nurtured and how it grows; how it develops. This_," she held up her hands, "_Is but a sliver of your power. It is aligned with the earth and represents only your body_."

She closed her hands and then opened them suddenly, as if giving something somewhere solid to step.

The light of his power shined and then it did the strangest thing; it _changed_. For before it hit the ground it was no longer light and power but a lithe, graceful spotted cat.

No, not a domestic cat, but a wild one. Like a miniature leopard it pranced smoothly around, looking curiously at its surroundings. It had a small elegant head with rounded ears, long legs with wide paws and an even longer tail. Harry was amazed when the small wildcat climbed swiftly up one of the statues and then came running down the other side as if it were nothing. How the bloody hell had it done that? One just couldn't run down a vertical with such swiftness!

"What is it?" he finally asked.

"_A Margay_," the Sentinel answered serenely, "_The Manifestation of your Power, of your Body_." She turned and looked at the small wildcat, "_Come_."

It did as it was told.

"I've never seen its like," his little light told him, eyes bright.

"What's your totem, then?" Harry inquired with narrowed eyes, still suspicious of the younger boy's mischievous nature.

"Oh, I have more than one, remember? One of them is a house cat, the manifestation of my body and soul," he sighed, "I've only seen him but once, I can't manifest him without a Sentinels help."

"_You have it_," the Sentinel spoke, startling them.

"What?" Harry asked it.

"_You have a Sentinels help, Shining One_," she informed them succinctly and extended her hand, which Aidan took joyfully.

Harry looked at his little light and watched as his power seeped out of him, pale gold in color, and took the shape of a big, fluffy cat with a sharp face, pointed ears and a startling white coat.

An angora, if he didn't miss his guess.

And it was beyond beautiful.

The sheer happiness on Aidan's face as the white feline stretched was fascinating to see, and he wondered briefly why he was enjoying it so much, even as he was captivated by the snowy feline's blue, tender gaze. However, before he could ask about it the Sentinel spoke, pointing at the Margay sitting in front of him, looking at him with big golden eyes, "_Touch him, know him; become one with him. He is you._"

Harry held out his hand, touched the small wildcat, and the world dissolved around him.

He felt free.

-o

**TBC…**

-o

**Pickled Brains****: **There ya go! It took me awhile to update again, but I had a bossy, double-damned, no-good son-of-a-leech breathin' down my neck and working my bones to dust! What is it with all these impossible jobs that people like throwing around? Everything has to be ready by last year! Sheesh!

But whatever, right? I'm finally free and you lot get an update out of it. Indeed, if there was ever a time when I needed reviews, and some cheering up, that time would be, I dunno . . . _now_.

*Blinks Innocently*


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